


When the Day Comes

by ed_anyeros



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Tommy Merlyn is Alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-12 08:26:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 45,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3350003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ed_anyeros/pseuds/ed_anyeros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Have you talked to her?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“So you'll call her-” Thea sent a teary look back through the window at Tommy.</p><p>“I'll call her if he wakes up.”</p><p>“When,” she gripped him fiercely then, her little nails digging into his forearm, “when Tommy wakes up.”</p><p>Oliver nodded, “Yes, of course.” His tone as hollow as his smile had been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, did I whine a lot while writing this! Thanks to everyone who held my hand!
> 
> Prompt on Tumblr December 31, 2014:  
> i have an olicity prompt for you!!! Maybe one exploring Felicity's reaction to the Undertaking? (like say if the damage wasn't contained and it ended up getting crazy down there with her all alone) I get a lot of feels about that and I also imagine she would share Oliver's massive guilt in not stopping the machines! OR Tommy's alive! And he totally ships Olicity so he tries to make that happen (also I feel like he and Felicity would be great friends) OR maybe both if you are so inclined? :)

“Yeah, Laurel, I get it.”

Oliver's back was tight and held himself with all the rigidity Digg would expect of a man who'd been viciously stabbed less then a day ago. Oliver's knuckles went white around the plastic of the phone as he pressed his fingers against the glass partition between the hallway and the stacked-to-capacity recovery room.

Patients were massed along both sides of the corridor. Nurses hustled frantically to and fro, orderlies as well. Hell, probably even Girl Scouts if they had the right kind of badges on their sashes. Diggle knew this all too well. In crisis it's all hands on deck, no matter how small those hands are.

He scrunched his massive frame further into a corner to make room for another gruesome sight on a blood stained gurney to go flying past. His eyes flicked up to see Oliver slide the phone back into his pocket, pressing both hands on the glass now. “She want's me to tell him,” he said abruptly.

Diggle shifted to echo his friends pose facing into the recovery room. “Tell him what?”

Oliver pulled in a breath, tipping his head back, and blinking vacantly at the ceiling, “That she's headed to Central. She's going to stay with her mom for a while. She wants to,” he cleared his throat, “she wants to get her head on straight first.”

“That's what she said?”

“Yeah,” Oliver's gaze locked on the prone form of his friend behind the glass, huffing out an empty laugh, “that's what she said.”

John traced Oliver's gaze to where it landed on the man in the hospital bed. One leg exposed and in traction, a cast on the left side of his upper body and arm. A ventilator in his throat, breathing in and out for him. Heart monitor, finally steady. “I'm going to head downstairs and help with the triage.” Diggle straightened and half turned. “You're not leaving this hospital without me?” It might have sounded like a question, but it wasn't.

“You think you can stop me, Mr. Diggle?” Oliver's smile was as brittle as his laugh had been.

John gave his friend an appraising once-over, “You want to test that, Mr. Queen?” Oliver opened his mouth to reply and John (instinctively) knew this conversation was about to go past the point of no return, so raised his hands in surrender. “I don't want to fight with you about this, but there are people here who need you. Ok, so not Laurel,” Oliver's jaw flexed, “but Thea, and your mother.” Oliver cut his eyes to the side guiltily, “Don't bail on your little sister, man. She's got one parent in the ground, and another in lock up. She needs somebody.”

“I don't think that somebody should be me, Digg.” Oliver said dropping his hands to his sides.

“Then who the Hell is it gonna be? That punk she's running around with?”

“No.”

“Who then? Who's _left_ Oliver?”

“But she's-”

“A child? I know, that's why you have to help. Stay,” Diggle adjusted his coat and patted his pockets to check for his phone and his keys “be her big brother. You don't want to go down the family abandonment road.”

“It's not abandonment, she's an adult now,” a challenge flashed in Oliver's tired eyes.

“Is that what you're telling yourself?” Oliver turned from Digg, jaw tight as he kept his sight locked on his helpless friend. “This is bigger than you now, than your list.” Diggle paused, choosing his next words carefully. “You say we're your partners, Oliver. But a lot of times, it seems like we're scenery.”

“This is my burden,” Oliver whispered.

“No one man can shoulder all this alone.” Oliver grit his teeth and breathed out slowly through his nose, clearly gearing up for a argument. John decided to take a different path. “Do you want me to tell Felicity?”

Oliver's head whipped around, “Has she gotten back in contact with you?”

“No.”

“What's the death toll,” he asked, his eyes growing dark.

“It's currently just over four hundred.” Oliver's hands flexed. “But the displaced? That number's still in the thousands. She'll turn up again. Our girl's a fighter.” John turned and half opened the stairwell door, “Hell, she might be helping down in triage right now.”

“Who's in triage?” Thea emerged from under Diggle's arm, Roy in tow.

“Lots of people, that's why I'm headed down,” Diggle placed a brief, reassuring hand on the young woman's shoulder. “You know where to find me,” he sent Oliver a loaded look, “when you're ready to go, Sir.” 

Thea slid in next to Oliver, “How is he?” she whispered quietly.

Oliver swallowed, “Stable, for now.”

“Where's Laurel?”

“She's recovering at her mom's place.”

Thea peered up at him, her eyes huge in her pale face, her mouth hanging open in surprise, “Has she been hurt too?”

 _Yes_. “She just needed some space after-” Oliver tapped his fingers on the glass in front of himself, “-after all of this.”

“Have you talked to her?”

“Yeah.”

“So you'll call her-” Thea sent a teary look back through the window at Tommy.

“I'll call her if he wakes up.”

“When,” she gripped him fiercely then, her little nails digging into his forearm, “ _when_ Tommy wakes up.”

Oliver nodded, “Yes, of course.” His tone as hollow as his smile had been.

Thea turned from him and clasped hands with Roy, “Come on let's go.”

“Where are you two headed?”

Thea gave her boyfriend a half smile, “We're headed back to the house.”

Oliver sent Roy a critical look, “I'm glad we've already had the 'disapproving older brother' talk.”

“Would you rather I lie to you about it? Should I take him to some seedy hotel instead, Ollie? Oh wait, I can't, they're full of newly homeless people.”

“It's our family's home Thea you-”

“I would rather go anywhere in the world but our house.” Thea said, eyes flashing with anger, “But Roy? He can't actually get home right now. There's a lot of people who can't.”

Oliver rounded on her, “Are you bringing them all to the manor? Are you going to turn our home into a refugee camp?”

“Maybe I should!” she fumed. “Aren't we the ones who made them refugees?”

Oliver deflated and pressed his forehead against the glass. “You're right,” he said something settling in him, “we need to accept our culpability in this, beyond Mom being in prison.”

Thea slipped her arm around his waist, “I know you're under a lot of stress right now, Mom, and the company. Trying to help Tommy. Let me help too, ok? Trust me with something, Ollie. Please.”

For the first time in a long time Oliver fully looked at his little sister, and although her eyes were much the same as when she was small, she was clearly a grown woman now. “How about you handle rebuilding the club? For Tommy,” he nodded towards their friend in the recovery unit, “I think he'd like to see it running when he wakes up.”

“Really?” Thea smiled. “Even though he-

“Yeah, he put a lot of effort into getting it going.” Oliver nodded, “How about you start on it next week?”

“Next week?”

Oliver nodded again, “I think, at first, we should be helping. The woman's shelter mom used to donate too? Go find them.” His jaw flexed, “Go make Dad proud.”

Thea smiled again and started down the hall, Roy at her heels, “Ollie?” she stopped, turning, “Is it alright if I dip into the charitable fund for-”

“Of course,” Oliver interrupted, “use whatever you feel is necessary. I trust your judgment in this.”

“Just in this?” her tone was teasing, playful.

Oliver slid an appraising look at Roy, “Certainly not in everything.”

Thea rolled her eyes and tugged again on Roy's hand. “Come on, let's go.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Diggle was about to slide out of the lobby and down to the triage center in the cafeteria when angry shouting caught his attention, and he was filled with an overwhelming desire to stick his nose in. _Oliver must be rubbing off on me_.

He doubled back to a see distraught man, clutching at the arm of a harried nurse.

“Listen, it's my sister Ok? I just need to know if she's even here.”

“I can't help you sir, a lot of casualties came in with no identification on them.”

“Listen,” he hissed, his grip tightening on her scrub's sleeve, “she's about five foot five, dark hair, she'd be in a waitress' uniform.”

The nurse struggled to ease the man's fingers off her shirt, “I'm sorry sir, but there's dozens here who fit that description.”

“But, my sister-”

“Here,” the nurse pulled a small pad out of her pocket, “what's her name? I'll keep an eye out, but that's the best I can do right now.”

“The name's Baker,” the man said his grip tightening, “first name's Jenny? Ok?”

“Hey, man,” Diggle said, easing his hand around the man's wrist, “why don't you let the nice nurse go?”

“But Jenny-” the man said releasing her arm with a shove. 

“Right,” John nodded steering the man towards triage, “let's go look for her together.”

He turned to see the nurse rubbing at the lingering finger marks on her arm. She caught his eye, and mouthed “Thank you.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Felicity huffed as she straightened another equipment stand. Wincing as whatever was left perched on the top shelf clattered to the floor. She scrunched up her face and took a peak behind the righted unit. _Extra wireless router, well, that could have been a lot worse_. She sighed, and flexed her hands, and rolled her wrists to keep them from cramping up. _And it is a lot worse for a lot people_ , she reminded herself. She closed her eyes tight and tried to push away the memories of terror and darkness, smoke and heat. 

She wiped the dampness on her palm off against blue SCU sweatpants she'd hiked up to her knees, and clomped through the space in her borrowed running shoes. She'd begun to shift debris from in front of the next unit, when the power flickered ominously.

“Great, another brown out, just what I need,” she muttered to herself and she began to trek back to the building's power box. She was picking her way through the debris next to the stairs when she heard the lock over head disengage and she froze. Her eyes growing wide in her panic.

 _Was that someone unlocking the door? Or was that the door unlocking itself because of a power surge? Should I go look? Maybe it's Malcolm Merlyn?_ Terror gripped her at that thought. _Don't be ridiculous_ , she scolded herself. _It can't be, Diggle and-_

“Felicity?”

She jumped and spun, banging her shin on the pole for the salmon ladder, half hidden in the jumble. She hissed in pain, heart racing, “Oliver, you scared me half to death.”

“What are you doing down here?”

She waved her hands at the mess around them, “Straightening up.”

“Felicity, this isn't important right now.”

“No, it is,” she said nodding emphatically.

“This isn't safe. You shouldn't be down here by yourself.” He swallowed thickly, “And I'm sure there's somewhere else you should be.”

“I'm not afraid of being in here, Oliver.”

His hand clenched around the stair rail, “I'm not saying you should be afraid, I'm saying you must have someplace better to be, and you should go there.”

 _What do I have left?_ “I don't, and I'm saving these computers.”

His eyes widened, “The computers will be fine.”

She tilted her head to one side and looked forlornly at the devastation, “You can't know that.”

“Things like this,” he gestured at the half destroyed foundry, “these things don't matter.”

“These _things_ might not matter Oliver, but what we use them for? That does.” She hated herself, just a little, for how broken he looked just then.

“They'll be fine for now.”

“No they won't, not at the rate the lair is taking on water.”

It was only then that Oliver looked around and actually noticed the dampness on the floor. “We have to get out of here, electricity and water-”

“I've unplugged everything. I'm just,” she sighed and pushed a stray hair behind her ear, “I'm just trying to get everything together, so I can get it out.”

“Why does this matter so much to you?” his voice was low and harsh.

She flicked her eyes around the dim and damp space, “What we do here Oliver? It's important, it matters.” She hoped he could hear the conviction in her voice. “And not just to me.”

His brow wrinkled then as his eyes swept over her, taking in her limp hair, shadowed eyes, ARMY p.t. shirt and baggy sweatpants. “You look terrible.”

She huffed out a laugh and rolled her eyes, “Well I _feel_ terrible, so at least that's fitting.”

“When was the last time you slept?”

She shrugged a shoulder under the worn fabric of her shirt, “What day is it?”

“Why didn't you call me?”

She turned and kept moving along the wall to the giant junction box in the back. “I didn't want to bother you.”

“You'd never be bothering me, Felicity.”

She turned as the lights flickered again. Even though it was dim she could clearly read the frustration in every line of his body. “Your mom's in prison, Oliver. Your family's company, the one that sends me a paycheck? They need you, desperately. Your best friend is in a hospital. Your business has half collapsed on itself. The Glades are in a shambles, and I know you,” she reached out to him, hesitantly, before dropping her hand. “You blame yourself for all of that. I'm not going to put another rock in your pile. It's big enough already.”

She had turned again to resume her slow creep along the wall when- “I'm calling Diggle. Get everything back to the house. You'll set up in a spare room on the second floor at the house.”

“What?”

“You're right,” he said simply, shrugging slightly before jogging up the stairs, “I have a lot of rocks. And I can't do all of that and be the Hood too, what with my secret base crumbling and half underwater.” He sent her a small smile from where he was half way up the staircase, “I'll see you on Monday at QC. I'll schedule a meeting for noon.”

“Ok,” Felicity said, surprise in her voice as she shuffled back to the base of the stairs. For the first time since they met, she was simply too stunned to argue with him. “I'll see you on Monday. Wait, do you even have an office?” But he was gone.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Felicity shuffled self-consciously in the lobby outside Oliver's glass walled office, unsteady in unfamiliar shoes. On her third trip nervously pacing the vast marble space she nearly lost her balance all together. _Must be nerves, or too much coffee._ She checked her watch, _12:15_ , and decided maybe she'd be better off sitting. 

She settled herself down for the long haul on one of the (tastefully understated) black leather and chrome sofas. She pressed the heels of her hands into her forehead and slumped, exhaustion finally washing over her, only to jerk back up a minute later when the elevator dinged. Felicity hastily straightened herself (and her clothes) when the elevator doors slid open to reveal one perfectly pressed Thea Queen.

Felicity glanced nervously at the tablet in her lap, and struggled valiantly to make herself smaller, more inconspicuous.

Thea's shoes clicked smartly across the marble almost all the way to Oliver's office, when she paused and gave Felicity a considering once-over. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

Felicity nodded nervously and averted her eyes, “Yeah,” she said to her phone in her other hand, “I was at the hospital, for Walter.”

“Oh, of course,” Thea nodded and resumed her walk to her brother's office, when she stopped and turned back to Felicity shaking her head, “No, no, that's not where I know you from.”

“Maybe you've seen me around?” Thea arched an eyebrow. “Not elsewhere obviously, I meant in the office?”

“What department do you work in?”

“IT,” Felicity swallowed.

“Then that's highly doubtful. Do you ev-”

Thea's questioning was interrupted by Oliver's sudden appearance beside them. “Will you give me a minute with Ms. Smoak?” It wasn't really a question, so he didn't give her a chance to answer. Felicity jerked unsteadily to her feet and wobbled into Oliver's office. “Where are we on the move?”

“It's all in the guest room, the Green Room,” she hurried on, wary of how late it was getting, how much she still had to do, “I didn't connect anything because I wasn't sure how much time I'd have before someone came a-knocking. Not that you have strange women, or really any person, knocking at your doors, but-” she cleared her throat, “I wasn't sure what you wanted to be seen?” 

Oliver sent her a small smile, the corners of his eyes beginning to crinkle, “The house is the best place for,” he inhaled and blew out a breath, “everything right now. It's not centrally located, but you can do your job from anywhere with an internet connection, right?” She nodded. “And while we wait for the foundry to get back up and running. Diggle and I will just be-,” he closed his eyes briefly, as if looking for the right word.

“Mobile extensions?” Felicity supplied, lowing her self into the visitor's chair, no longer willing to risk a broken ankle from standing. 

“Exactly.”

“And prying eyes?”

“Walter's moved out. Thea is most often with her boyfriend. I've also asked her to fix up the club. So, it's good that we're out of there.”

“At the club. So she won't see any vigilante stuff during the repairs?”

He nodded, “Exactly. And because it's in the Glades that will encourage her to stay away from the house, and in the city.”

“In the city with her boyfriend?”

“Yes,” Oliver nodded once, “with Roy, her boyfriend. The only other person in the house is Raisa, the housekeeper, and I trust her to act with the utmost discretion.”

“Your housekeeper.”

“Yes, Felicity, my housekeeper. Are you going to keep repeating everything I say?”

“Maybe,” she nodded slowly, “just until it all sinks in.”

“Until what sinks in?”

“We're going to be vigilante-ing-”

“That's not actually a word.”

Felicity rolled her eyes, “-from the historic, and dignified Queen Manor.”

“It's just a house.”

“No,” Felicity shook her head, “where I lived was just a house. The manor is a museum with a cable connection. And besides, how are you going to explain me, and Diggle sneaking in and out at all hours? Not- not that I'm _sneaking in_ \- sneaking in, but-”

He huffed out a laugh, “Diggle can come and go as he pleases, that won't raise any suspicions, but as for you?” he trailed off, an inquisitive eyebrow in the air.

“I solemnly swear I will only arrive under cover of full darkness,” Felicity said, glancing at where she'd clenched her hands around the tech in her lap. She exhaled slowly and relaxed herself, “and I'm pretty mobile myself.”

“The Agnes Pittsler House!” Thea shouted bursting into the office.

“What?” Oliver rose from his seat, hesitating briefly before striding around the side of his desk, placing his hand on Thea's shoulder.

“The Agnes Pittsler House,” Thea continued as Felicity tried to scrunch herself further into the leather chair, “That's where I recognize her from.”

“Felicity,” Oliver supplied.

“What,” Thea shook her head slightly, obviously jerked from her train of thought.

“'Her',” Oliver went on, “her name is Felicity.”

“Ok,” Thea blinked twice, “I recognize Felicity from the Pittsler House.” At Oliver's confused expression she went on, “The woman's shelter?”

Oliver turned his stare on Felicity then, “Have you been staying at the Pittsler House.”

“No,” Felicity said shaking her head firmly, “of course not. I have not been staying at the Pittsler House.”

“Oh,” he nodded to Thea, “so she's another volunteer.”

“No,” Felicity said again, “I am not a volunteer.”

Oliver dropped his hand from Thea's shoulder and took two steps closer to where Felicity was pressed against the back of the visitor's chair, cowering slightly, and gnawing on her lip. “What are you doing at a shelter, Felicity?”

“Well, I'm, obviously, not staying there because-” she swallowed anxiously.

“Because you're not homeless,” Oliver supplied.

“No,” she shook her head, “because it's for women with young children.”

“Felicity,” he growled out, his eyes growing dark.

She stood and stumbled slightly away from him, “I'm at Pittsler for their washing facilities, because,” She paused briefly and inhaled, “because I have no water.”

Thea tilted her head slightly to the side and narrowed her eyes. _Oh God_. “I don't work in the laundry,” Thea said placing herself between Felicity and her brother, “I work in housing referrals.”

“Well, it's a big place,” Felicity laughed nervously, backing towards the windows, “I'm-I'm sure you've seen me in the parking lot or-”

Thea took another step forward, “It's not that big of a place.”

“Oh, well, you know,” Felicity straightened herself, “maybe it was in one of the other departments? I've gone in for other things too.”

“Other things?” Thea asked, “Like for plumbing services? For your broken pipe?”

“Yes,” Felicity nodded, “exactly, like for plumbing services.”

“Pittsler House doesn't offer home repair services.”

“Oh?” Felicity said, breathlessly.

“I definitely would have seen you if you had come into housing referrals though. You don't have to lie to us Felicity. Do you have no water, because you have no place to stay?”

Felicity drew one calming breath, then another. But every time she opened her mouth to reply to Thea, she couldn't force the words past her suddenly leaden tongue. She closed her eyes tightly then, willing her tears not to fall. _Not here not where they can see_. Trying to push the memories away, she dropped her head forward and pressed one shaking hand against her mouth, when suddenly she was engulfed in warmth. 

Oliver had crossed to her on silent feet. Sliding his jacket off and draping it around her trembling shoulders. “What happened, Felicity?” he asked softly. He'd stooped his massive frame so they were eye to eye.

“There was a gas line that broke,” she began, her voice wet with unshed tears, her fingers twisting in the lapels of his coat, “and the street I live on? It's all gone now. It burned to the ground.”

“I didn't know you lived in the Glades.” his voice was gruff, and low right next to her ear. His hand running soothingly up and down her arms.

“I don't,” she gulped back a fresh wave of sobbing, “but the gas main snapped at the junction point and that's on my corner.” She'd begun to tremble slightly when she was suddenly pulled fully into Oliver's comforting embrace. “Was on my corner. It's just ashes now,” she whispered into the silk of his tie, “it's all ashes.” 

Felicity felt a delicate hand press in between her shoulder blades and opened her eyes to Thea's face just over Oliver's bicep. “You can stay at our house,” she told Felicity, her eyes wide and glassy with tears. “Can't she, Ollie?” 

“Of course,” he choked out, “Felicity's become a good friend to me. I'd be honored.” 

He pulled away from her then, and only after a heartbeat did Felicity grasp how inappropriate they must seem right now. Employer and employee, hugging and weeping. She cleared her throat and shrugged off his coat, hanging it over the back of the visitor's chair.

“I'm sorry,” Felicity whispered, her fingers flexing in the suit fabric, “I normally don't get so emotional.”

Thea slid a comforting arm around her shoulders, “It's ok, I'm sure normally your house hasn't burnt down.” She was so abrupt and sudden it startled a laugh and a genuine smile out of Felicity. “What time do you get off work?” Thea continued, linking their arms as they walked back to the glass doors together.

Felicity sent an unsure glace back to Oliver, “Um, usually between five and five thirty?”

“Perfect.” Thea sent her a sunny smile, “I'll make sure Raisa has a room for you, and a place set at dinner.”

“Thank you,” Felicity said earnestly as they click-clacked across the lobby, “I didn't know what I was going-”

“Don't even worry about it,” Thea said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Right before his office door latched shut, Oliver's hand darted through, pushing it open again, “What did you need to talk to me about, Speedy?”

“Never mind,” she shouted back, right before the elevator doors slid shut, “I'll tell you at dinner.”

~*~*~*~*~

Felicity was (obviously) aware that the Queen Manor was an estate. Everyone in Starling was. 

After passing through the gates, the sweeping tree-lined drive led to a stone facade that rivaled castles. The interior had been regularly featured in home magazines. And the news used to broadcast political fundraisers hosted by Mr. and Mrs. Queen live out of their living room. But until she pulled up to it, in the full light of day and not under the cover of darkness, she didn't really understand what 'manor' entailed. _This is what they mean by 'old money' I guess_ , she thought as she rolled past the manicured grounds and up the to sweeping front steps.

She pulled up and over to one side in front of the house. Unsure of the proper parking protocol. _Someone will let me know if I should move, won't they?_ She switched the ignition off and unbuckled her seat belt. _I wonder how much am I bringing down the property value by leaving my blood-stained car out front?_ she mused. She leaned down to pop her trunk lever, _It can't be that much, it's Oliver's blood after all. It must be practically blue._

By the time she'd crunched down the gravel drive to her trunk, the front door had opened to reveal an older woman with dark hair in a smart gray uniform.

“I am Raisa,” she was told as the women helped her through the paneled foyer and up the stairs with her duffel bag of donated clothes, “and how do you know our Miss Thea?”

“Um,” _My building burned down and, your Miss Thea apparently, has a heart of gold_ , “work?”

“At the company?” she asked in her lightly accented tones. They had arrived at the top of the stairs then and had turned to head along the balcony.

“I'm in IT.” Felicity supplied, uncomfortable with lying to someone Oliver trusted.

“Of course,” Raisa smiled, “that explains all the equipment in your room. You must be a,” she gestured in front of herself searching for the right word, “a telecommuter.”

“Yes,” Felicity forced a cheery smile, “that's me.”

“Then you and I will get to know each other well,” Raisa said pushing open the door to the green guest suite. “We will be the only ones in the house most days.” She smiled sweetly and ushered Felicity into the room. “You may freshen up if you wish,” she gestured to the en suite bath, “dinner is at seven.”

“Thank you,” Felicity said with a genuine smile, as the heavy door swung shut. _This is way better than living in my car._

She tossed her bag into the closet and slid off her slightly-too-big shoes. Before surveying the new heart of Oliver's vigilante operation. She ran her hands along the emerald sateen coverlet, _Definitely a better thread count than the old place_. She raised up on tiptoe and pressed her feet down into the carpet. Yeah, I could get used to this. She sighed wistfully at the bed mounded up with pillows cased in million thread count sheets. _I could definitely get used to this._

She turned slowly on her toes like a ballerina, smiling vaguely at the silk wallpaper, heavy oak furniture, and the marble fireplace. Eventually her eyes landed on the pile of computer equipment shoved into one corner that she and John had dropped off over the weekend, and she sighed. _I guess I got to earn being in that bed_. She shook herself sharply at the implications of earning a bed in Oliver's house, and the images that those words slipped into her brain. _Thank God I didn't actually say any of that out loud._

Forty five minutes later Felicity had placed most of the salvaged equipment to rights and had all of her firewalls up and running. 

_It's going to be harder to scramble the signal_ , she thought to herself, _because the house is so remote, so there's less to piggy back the data onto but I can do it_. “I can do anything,” she whispered, pumping her fist in the air. 

There was a short knock on the door and Felicity flicked the screens to black before standing. She was almost to the door when it pushed in revealing, “Thea?” she asked, “What are you doing up here? I'm sorry,” she shook her head, “that was rude. How can I help you?”

“You don't have to force politeness, Felicity,” the young woman said rolling her eyes, “you can tell me to get out of your room,” Thea brushed past her, bringing herself further into the space, “it's not like this is at work.” She glanced around Felicity's room taking in the computer equipment in the corner, “Or maybe it is like work?” She frowned slightly. “At any rate it's time for dinner.”

Felicity looked between her shoe-less feet and the rumpled clothes she'd been in all day and Thea's immaculate outfit for half a second before she vaguely remembered Raisa's suggestion of 'freshening up'. “Are- are we supposed to dress for dinner,” Felicity stuttered out.

“You'll be OK,” Thea reassured her, “as long as you're not in PJ's it's basically anything goes.” Felicity nodded slightly, and followed her out into the hallway. “Mom always preferred things to be a bit more formal but-” Thea swallowed. Felicity drew along side her and placed her arm tentatively around the girl's shoulders. Thea turned her head towards Felicity, her eyes swimming. “Maybe we should wear pajamas.” Thea whispered huskily, “It's not like Mom's here to mind.”

Felicity smiled slightly, “Maybe if they're fancy designer Pjs no one would notice? Don't people just look at the logos on things anyway?” Thea made a tentative smile as Felicity linked their arms together and started down the stairs. “Maybe we can make PJ-chic a thing?” She tilted her head towards her new friend, a grin on her face.

Thea matched Felicity's smile with her own. It was small, but it seemed genuine, “Well, if they can turn Hippie-Boho into a thing, who knows what's possible?”

They settled into the vast and echo-y dining room sitting across a wide walnut expense from each other. Only after the fish course was served (seriously), did Felicity realize there was another place setting at the head of the table. Thea must have noticed her staring (she wasn't exactly being subtle about it) because she cleared her throat and said, “Ollie's,” at Felicity's confused expression she nodded at the chair at the head of the table. “That's for Ollie,” Thea turned her eyes deliberately back to her plate, “if he ever comes home.”

Felicity sent her a sympathetic smile, “It must get really lonely here, with Oliver gone so much.” 

“I spend most of my time with my boyfriend, Roy,” she smiled slightly. “But he's, you know,” she gestured helplessly with her knife. “He lives in the Glades,” she said more firmly.

“Is he allowed back in his home?”

Thea shook her head, chewing thoughtfully on a bite of mashed potatoes, “Not yet,” she said after swallowing, “they want to do a structural integrity check on his place first.”

Felicity forked a bite of green beans, “So where's he staying in the mean time?”

Thea rolled her eyes, “He's staying in his house anyway.”

“I know a lot of guys just like that.”

“What?” Thea asked, then helpfully supplied, “Stupid?”

“Stupid,” Felicity nodded in agreement, “and utterly convinced of their own invincibility.”

“There must be an age range for that.”

“Totally,” Felicity nodded, seriously, “it starts at like,” she waggled her head indecisively, “probably around fifteen? And it ends...,” she pursed her lips together, considering.

“Death,” Thea said flatly, as Felicity bit into her green beans, “the stupidity spans between fifteen and death.”

Felicity choked out a laugh around her mouthful of food. She looked up to see Thea smiling, her eyes crinkling up at the corners. “Yeah,” she finally said after swallowing, “ain't that the truth?”

“Ain't what the truth?” Oliver asked as he breezed into the dining room loosening his tie, his jacket already discarded. 

“The emotional and rational decision making development rates in men versus women,” Thea supplied, her grin barely in check.

“Right,” Oliver said nodding, pressing a kiss onto the top of his sister's head, “of course.” 

“Did you take any Psychology classes at University, Oliver?” Felicity asked, hoping to distract herself from thinking about Oliver With An Unbuttoned Dress Shirt Collar. 

“No,” he said not looking up from his plate.

“Ollie took a lot of art classes,” Thea said, smiling knowingly.

“Really?” Felicity enthused, “I never took any art, there wasn't really any time, I was cramming my Bachelors and my Masters into five years.”

“Ollie was quite the artist,” Thea continued, “he took a lot of studio drawing courses.”

“What? Like, still life?”

“Yes,” Oliver shot Thea a warning look from the head of the table.

“Yes,” Thea repeated, “still life. With naked people.”

“Really?” Felicity couldn't help the way her voice raised on the second syllable.

Oliver set his cutlery down and rolled his eyes, “I happen to like a lot of classical forms.”

“Totally,” Thea said nodding, eyes wide in mock innocence, “two specific classical forms.” She cupped her hands in front of her blouse as though she were holding oranges.

Felicity didn't think she could control her giggle-snort, so she didn't really try. 

Oliver leaned back in his chair giving Thea what Felicity assumed was his best 'Disapproving Older Brother' look. “Wasn't there something you wanted to tell me, Speedy?”

“Of course,” Thea said settling herself some, “the hospital called, they're releasing Tommy tomorrow. He's coming home.”

“He just woke up on Tuesday, Thea,” Oliver said leaning forward in his seat, “that seems awfully soon to-”

“They need the bed,” Thea interrupted him, “we're supposed to call 9-1-1 if something happens, there's a list of instructions we have to follow, and a time table for his medicine, plus a bunch of follow up appointments.”

“We?”

Thea nodded happily, “He's coming home _here_. He needs to be around people, and there's no one at his house now, you know? Because of his dad...”

“Right,” Oliver said nodding sharply, his back tight, “of course. When should we expect him?” 

_Why does he seem so angry?_ Felicity wondered.

“Tomorrow afternoon. He'll be arriving by private ambulance.” Thea stood and wrapped her arms around her brother's massive shoulders. “It'll be just like old times, Ollie.” The smile on her face was genuine, so were the happy tears in her eyes.

“Yeah,” Oliver replied, his voice low and his face carefully blank. “Just like old times.”


	2. Chapter 2

“It's so awesome you're a telecommuter,” Thea said as they started up the stairs after dinner.

“Really? Why's that?”

“I think it'll be good for Tommy,” her new friend said, smiling tightly, “to have someone around. And between you and Raisa? I think he'll have as good a time as possible. You know, given the circumstances.”

Felicity wrinkled her nose, “I'm not really trained as a caregiver.”

“Not as a caregiver,” Thea said as they reached the top of the steps, turning to face her, “as his friend.”

“You sound awfully confident about that.”

“I happen to be an excellent judge of character,” Thea said with a smile and a shrug. “Plus, he's always been partial to blondes.” Felicity choked out a laugh. “Breakfast is at eight, see you then?”

“I wouldn't miss it.”

Felicity strolled back to her room looking forward to an evening lying in bed and reading a novel on her tablet. That, however, was not to be. She had barely slid on her ratty pajama pants when Oliver barged through the door, and into her room. _Of course, when I'm in flannel pants with no makeup, that's when I get him alone in a bed room_. Felicity popped her head through the neck of her hoodie and smoothed her her hair out of her face. “Don't you people knock?”

Oliver came to an abrupt halt at the end of her bed. “What?”

“Knocking,” she strode around him and lowered herself into the computer chair, “or is that an outmoded concept among the wealthy?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“This is _my_ room.”

He glowered at her from across her desk, “You're in _my_ house.”

“Are you telling me to leave?

He jerked back, “No, of course not.”

“Then that's _my_ door,” she said nodding towards it, “I would like it if you knocked.”

He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets, “Fair enough.” Felicity switched on her monitors while Oliver shuffled nervously across the desk. “I'm sorry.”

“As long as you knock in the future, it's fine.”

“No, I'm-” he cleared his throat and stilled his feet, “I'm sorry I didn't know you were living in your car.”

She glanced up at him, her face strangely lit in the glow of the monitors, Oliver largely lost to her in the shadows, “Why would you apologize for that?”

“I should know things about you Felicity, you're my partner.”

She tilted her head and gave him a slow once over, “Raisa thinks I'm a telecommuter.” She blurted out abruptly.

“Really?” he said flatly.

“That's how I excused all the equipment being in here. Don't worry, it's already been cleared by the office.”

“You told someone you were staying here.”

She swallowed nervously, _Of course he wouldn't want people knowing that I'm living here, no matter how temporary_. “I told them I'm staying with friends.”

“What if I need to see you?” At her questioning expression he continued, “I can't just run down to IT if you're at the house.”

“My boss said I have to be in on Wednesdays for the department meeting.”

“Just on Wednesdays?”

“It'll be easy,” she sent him a sunny smile, “just schedule all your emergencies for Wednesday between nine thirty and eleven.”

“Why are you being so flippant about this?”

“I'm not being flippant,” she shot back, her cheeks growing heated, “I'm trying to make the best of a weird situation.”

“What weird situation?”

“'What weird situation?'” she said in a mocking tone. At his scowl, she blurted out, “I'm living in my boss' house and playing babysitter to his friend.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your sister? She's conscripted me into the 'Tommy Merlyn Convalescence Army'. And that's fine,” she hurried, “but I don't really know him, outside his party boy reputation. He seems nice enough though. I'm just-” she inhaled slowly, “I'm just trying to figure out what that means. I'm always better if I have a plan.”

“Well, I'm sorry we're being so trying.”

_What in the_ \- “I'm- I didn't say you were being trying Oliver. I think your family is really nice. Well, I mean you know, your sister. Because your dad is dead, and your mom is- never mind,” she said with a shake of her head.

He spun on his heel and stomped to the door looking and sounding like an overgrown child. He paused briefly at the threshold, before he turned back, “Thank you,” he grit out over his shoulder, “for at least being nice to my sister.”

Felicity's mouth hung open for half a second before her brows furrowed in anger, and she snapped her teeth shut, “I was being nice to your sister because she's a nice person, Oliver. She's letting me stay here.”

“I'm letting you stay here.”

“You're not the one who offered.”

He crossed back to her in three long strides. Anchoring himself between her and the rest of the room, legs braced, shoulders hunched, “I didn't know.”

“I know!” Felicity threw her hands up in the air, “And I'm not blaming you!” she switched the monitors off. _We're, obviously, not getting anything productive done tonight_. “What is up with you?”

He raked a hand through his hair and pressed his finger tips against his eyes, inhaling once, twice before, “It's Tommy,” Oliver blew out a long exhale, “we had a fight right before-” he dropped his hands, his eyes looked dull, lifeless, “right before the earthquake. And he doesn't know- he doesn't know about his dad, that he-”

Felicity rose, she dug her bare toes into the carpet to steady herself, and leaned into Oliver's chest, wrapping her arms around his neck. His hands came up, and briefly hesitated on her upper arms before sliding around her back. His massive palms and long fingers spreading out between her shoulder blades. She tipped her head back to get a better look at his face half in shadow, “It'll be ok,” she whispered, “we'll figure it out.”

“Will we?” his eyes searched her face briefly before he turned his gaze out the window, staring at nothing.

“We always do.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Tommy arrived the next afternoon with little fanfare. 

“It is so good to see you, my darling boy,” Raisa said after she shut the door behind the burly ambulance driver. 

Felicity watched from the balcony as Raisa pushed his wheelchair across the foyer and down the hall to a first floor guest room. She could see, even from his distance, the distinctly handsome profile of the one and only Tommy Merlyn. _Should I just go and introduce myself?_ she wondered, listening to Raisa's happy chatting echoing through the house. _Am I coward if I wait until later?_ She retreated to her room and worked steadily until Thea knocked on her door at half past four. 

Thea wrapped slim fingers around Felicity's wrist and tugged her into the hall. “Come on,” she encouraged, “you'll love him.” Felicity dutifully followed her down the stairs and, through the foyer and straight to, what she assumed, was Tommy's room. She knocked on the door while shouting “Tommy? Are you naked in there?” and then had the decency to wait for half a nanosecond before pushing the door open.

“Hey Speedy, how are you?” he asked as the door swung open enough to reveal Thea, “And who are you?” he asked lasciviously when it swung open far enough to reveal Felicity standing just behind her.

“This is Felicity,” Thea clambered up on the bed next to Tommy, embracing him, “she's staying here too.”

“Are you my naughty nurse?” Tommy asked Felicity, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, “Please say 'yes'.”

“She's a displaced IT worker,” Thea said with an eye roll.

“Oh, of course,” Tommy said sobering instantly at the mention of the earthquake, turning his gaze to the cast on his arm.

“Hey,” Thea said, resting her hand on his shoulder, “none of that.” Felicity slipped further into the room and perched on his bed side chair, “We're here to entertain you while you're bed ridden. So, you know what that means?”

“Oh God, Speedy-”

“It's time for-”

“Speedy, no.”

“Mystery Date!” she crowed pulling the battered board game from where she'd stashed it under one of his many pillows. Tommy groaned dramatically and flung himself back against his mound of cushions. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

“That's so not fair!” Tommy's shout echoed down the hall, “Why did I get the dud! I'm in the ball gown! You rigged this game, didn't you? I know how you are. You're still mad about MarioKart from when you were eight. ”

“No,” he heard Thea reply, “now put your cards down, and let Felicity shuffle.”

Oliver crept down the hall on silent feet. Excitement, and dread filling him at seeing his friend again in equal measures. 

“Oh I see! 'Let Felicity shuffle!' You're a card shark aren't you, Blondie! I should have known! You two are in this together.”

“I never would have imagined you were such a bad loser.” He smiled at the light laughter in Felicity's voice.

“I am not a loser. This is a ridiculous- and totally rigged- board game aimed at little preteen girls!”

“Is that why you're so mad?”

“I was in the ball gown, Thea. The ball gown.”

Oliver pushed the door open, “And I'm sure you looked lovely in it.”

“Ollie!” Thea launched herself from the end of the bed and flung herself at her brother, jostling the mattress and upending the board game.

He glanced up at Tommy, who was wincing from the unexpected movement of his leg and arm, and Felicity, who had a steady hand on Tommy's good shoulder next to where she was nestled in against him. “He's having memory problems,” Thea whispered.

“What?” Oliver questioned absently, his eyes lingering on how Felicity smiled as she straightened the collar of Tommy's polo shirt.

“Temporary amnesia,” Thea shook him gently by the shoulders, “it's in his papers the hospital sent.”

“Memory loss,” Oliver nodded slightly, his posture relaxing minutely as Felicity climbed off the bed, “got it.”

Thea turned and beckoned to Felicity, “Let's go see what Raisa's left us for dinner.” 

“Are you going to spoon feed me?” Tommy called after them, “I'm wounded! If not spoon feeding, how about a sponge bath?”

Oliver smiled, happy to see Tommy more like himself then he'd seen in a long time. “They been harassing you all day?”

Tommy shrugged one shoulder and nudged the board game with his sock clad toe. “It wasn't as bad as it could have been.” Oliver raised an eyebrow and shot a look down the hallway at the retreating backs of his sister and his partner in crime fighting. “The view was pretty nice.” Oliver's other eyebrow crept up and joined his first one. “Not like that, Ollie, come on. You know me better than that. You know I would never hit on your sister,” he said with a wolfish grin.

_Well, if not Thea then_ \- a thunder cloud settled on Oliver's expression. _He can't possibly mean_ -, “Have you spoken to Laurel?” he blurted out abruptly.

The smile slipped from Tommy's face, “No, why? Have you?”

“Yeah, I have.”

Tommy's eyes went wide and he made a 'hurry up' gesture with his hand, “And?”

“She called me while you were in the hospital. She's having a hard time with all of this. With your fight and-” Oliver blew out a breath, gesturing helplessly in front of himself.

“With her sleeping with you?”

Oliver grit his teeth and nodded, “She wants you to know she's in Central with her mom. She said she's-”

“Getting her head together?”

Oliver nodded, “Yeah.”

Tommy sighed heavily and adjusted himself against the mass of pillows. “She used to always say that when you were gone. When we'd get a little too heavy.” He huffed out a joyless laugh, “We've come weirdly full circle though. The memory of you was always between us, and then she cheats on me with you, and gets you to break up with me on her behalf. Fitting, I guess.”

Oliver clenched his hands, “Tommy some things were said before the earthquake, and I don't-”

“You don't get to dump this at my feet, Queen.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your guilt, or whatever you're rolling with. That's all on you.”

Oliver's mouth opened slightly before he snapped shut, “You probably don't remember, but-”

“You're right!” Tommy interrupted him with a somber shake of his head, “I don't, Ollie. The few days before the quake? I can't remember a single damn thing. The doctors say I might not ever!”

“Well, isn't that convenient?” Oliver spit out, folding his arms defiantly across his chest. Angry at his friend, at himself.

“Oh yeah,” Tommy gestured with his one good hand to his arm and leg, “yeah, this is totally a convenient thing on my part! So go ahead Ollie, and tell me what I great guy I am because I forgave you. Tell me I gave you and Laurel my blessing, because fuck me if I can remember anything!”

“I don't need your blessing Tommy!” Oliver shouted, and Tommy couldn't have looked more wounded if Oliver had physically reached out and struck him. “That's not what I meant I-” Oliver shoved his hand roughly through his hair. He was about to open his mouth again when Thea burst in.

“Soup,” she said grabbing Oliver's forearm and trying to tug him away. “It's time for dinner,” she continued, obviously trying to diffuse the strained situation. 

Felicity appeared behind her then carrying a spoon, a napkin, and a large, shallow bowl on a breakfast tray. Her tongue peeking out as she concentrated on balancing her load. “You're getting lucky today, Merlyn,” she chirped, “it'll be spoon feeding after all.” She maneuvered her way around where Oliver had planted himself in the middle of the floor (following her every move silently with his eyes) and got the tray onto Tommy's lap with out spilling a drop. She pumped her hand in the air in victory, “Yes!”

Her gaze flicked up to Oliver's then, and he could see her flinch (just slightly) when she caught the tension running through the room. He held her with this eyes for a heartbeat, a breath, when-

“I'll stay here with Tommy,” Thea offered shooing them to the door, “and you and Ollie can go catch some dinner, Ok?”

Felicity nodded mutely finally breaking Oliver's gaze. She turned back to smile sweetly at Tommy, “Re-match tomorrow?”

He sent her his cocky playboy grin, “You bet.”

Felicity nodded once to Thea and brushed past Oliver on her way to the kitchen. Thea glanced up from where she was perched next to Tommy on the bed spreading the napkin across his lap and sent Oliver a warning glance with a short shake of her head. 

He knew that look, _You better watch it, Buddy._ Raisa used to send it to him all the time. 

Oliver caught up to Felicity while she was ladling soup into a bowl out of a fragrant, simmering pot in the vast expanse of the Queen kitchen. “Easy enough day?”

“Oh, yeah,” she fished around in the drawer for a spoon, “piece of cake.” 

“You seem charmed,” he tipped his head towards the hallway, “with Tommy.”

“Well,” she said with a small smile, “he is very charming.” She stirred her soup slowly, lips puckering up to cool it with a puff of air. “How was your chat?”

Oliver ran his hand along the back of his neck, “You heard that?”

“Some of it.”

He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, sighing heavily. When he lowered them, Felicity had her head tilted, her eyes running over him, considering. Oliver turned then and headed for the stairs, “I have a business meeting,” he called back to her.

“Aren't you having any dinner?”

“I'm not hungry.” _Not any more_. 

Felicity darted into the hallway after him, half empty bowl clutched in one hand, spoon in the other, “Do you need me to come too?” Oliver blinked twice. “On comms,” she blurted out, flushing hotly. “Or are you _actually_ having a business meeting?”

“No, Felicity,” he growled out. “But you should stay behind. With Tommy.” She opened her mouth, and looked like she was about to argue with him, “Felicity, please,” Oliver cleared his throat roughly, “he needs someone.” Oliver could feel her eyes travel over him again, a sad smile across her lips.

“Ok, Oliver.”

He nodded once, and jogged up the rest of the stairs. His muscles primed, his body crackling with nervous energy. 

Felicity ate the rest of her soup leaning over the sink. She'd just rinsed her bowl and got it into the dishwasher when she heard someone close the door to Tommy's room.

“Hey, Felicity,” Thea whispered coming into the kitchen and setting the tray on the counter, “Tommy's taken his pill, and he should sleep through until morning, but it's his first night here, and-” she wrung her hands together worriedly.

Felicity clasped Thea's fingers in her own, “I'll sit with him.”

Thea sent her a relieved smile, “Thank you so much! I've got a business meeting in the Glades about the club. So, I'll be back late.”

“A business meeting, this late?” Felicity said incredulously. _God, they're like peas in a pod._

“Of course, we have to, umm, map out our business and marketing strategy.” Thea smiled from the doorway.

“Will this meeting be over before breakfast?”

“Not if the merger is successful!” Thea called from the stairs.

Felicity poked her head out the door and smirked at her friend, “That was legitimately terrible, Thea Queen!”

Thea paused and sent her a smile, “OK, so the metaphor got away from me.” She shrugged one petite shoulder, “Either way, I'm headed to Roy's and I'm still not going to be home for breakfast.”

Felicity turned back into the kitchen and quickly loaded the dishwasher, and flicked on the coffee pot. She spun on her heel to head back to Tommy's room, and ran smack into Oliver. His hand came up to brace her as she stumbled back from her impact with his Henley covered chest. “Keep your comm on you,” he whispered low against her ear, “I might need you tonight after all.” She nodded slowly, her body tense from his contact. Her breath short from his nearness. “What are your plans for the evening?”

“I'm going to sit with Tommy, like you asked.” She gestured vaguely to the dripping coffee machine to keep from reaching for him.

His jaw ticked twice, “And then?”

“I'll probably end up sleeping in there,” she felt his fingers tighten, ever so slightly, around her upper arm, before his body went perfectly still. “Thea asked me too,” she rushed on, “just for this first night.”

“If Thea asks, I'm asleep. Ok?”

“Of course.”

He nodded, and then he was gone. 

Felicity drew one shaky breath then another before heading up the stairs herself to change for the night.

She'd just emerged from her room (clad in socks and pajamas, tablet at her side) when Thea called out to her from the end of the hall. “If Ollie asks, I'm asleep. Ok?”

“Ok!” Felicity sent her a smile, concentrating on taking deep and steady breaths. _Ok._

When Oliver crept into the house hours later, he didn't fall straight into bed. He didn't head into the kitchen for dinner (even though he was starving). He didn't even take off his hood. Instead he crept through his home on silent feet and held his breath as he pushed open the door to Tommy's room.

He was happy to say, it was better than he was expecting. 

He'd been expecting Felicity to be curled up on Tommy's good side, cradling him in her arms. Maybe a hand cupped around his shoulder. Maybe Tommy's good leg flung over both of her's. Maybe his face tucked up into her neck, both of them breathing softly under a blanket. But instead Felicity was curled into the overstuffed armchair to one side of the nightstand, her feet propped up on the side of Tommy's bed, his hand curled around her ankle. 

Oliver crept closer, needing to wake Felicity with out waking Tommy. He had no way of knowing what his friend remembered of his Hood activities, but this was not the time to find out. 

He glanced over to where Tommy had his hand on the delicate bones of Felicity's leg and frowned when he realized Tommy was gliding his fingers up and down her pale skin in his sleep. Oliver grit his teeth. _It'll be harder to get her to move_ , he told himself harshly, _with out waking him, if he's touching her. That's all_. He knelt down behind the chair and brought his mouth to her ear. 

“Felicity,” he whispered. She drew a sudden breath and tensed. Oliver dropped his hand to cover hers where they were folded against her chest. “It's me.” She exhaled slowly and went completely lax at his touch. He rose then on silent feet and crept to the door. He paused to look back. Felicity had stood up from the chair and was bending to retrieve her tablet form where it had slipped to the floor. 

She followed him into the hall, silent in her socks. When they got to the kitchen he started the automatic task of making himself a sandwich.

“How'd it go tonight?” Felicity's face was scrunched in the bright light of the kitchen, her hair in a lopsided bun, the skin along the apple of her left cheek imprinted faintly with the texture of the chair cushion.

“Did you drink that whole pot of coffee?”

“Nice deflection, Queen.”

“You're like a dog with a bone.”

“Flattery will get you no where.”

“Not well,” he took a bite of his PB and J.

“How not well?” she adjusted her glasses on the end of her nose and gave him a critical once over.

“It's not too bad,” he said around a mouthful of food.

“Well, that can't be true,” she countered, “if it were, you wouldn't have said anything about it at all.”

“That doesn't even make any sense,” he said, he turned from her as he polished off the rest of his sandwich. 

He would never admit it, but when her hands came up under his jacket and her palm pressed flush against the skin of his back he almost dropped his plate. His head snapped up and his breath started coming in little gasps before he bit down on the inside of his cheek to stop himself. “What are you doing?” He set his plate on the counter so he wouldn't shatter it on the tile floor, and braced his hands along the edge of the sink.

She'd set her tablet gently on the counter next to his dirty dish, “I'm checking your definition of 'not well' versus mine.” He'd stilled, body rigid and thighs braced as her lithe fingers pushed the material of his jacket and t-shirt up and out of her way. “Oh, God, Oliver,” she breathed out.

Oliver hunched his shoulders and dropped his head, chin to his chest, trying to control his breathing. “It's fine Felicity.”

“No,” her voice was soft, but full of fire, “no, this really isn't.” He could feel her hands tracing what had started as an ache and turned into a massive purple and blue welt, starting at his spine and wrapping around one side of his ribs. “Do you have any ointment for this?”

He wanted to tell her 'no'. He wanted to tell her to go to bed. But instead her told her, “Yes.” And he was relieved when she followed him up the stairs, without further encouragement from him.

He'd emerged from the bathroom, shirtless, his jacket discarded, a jar of salve in hand. To catch her admiring a painting on the wall. She turned to him and smiled slightly, one corner of her mouth kicking up in a grin. “What's so funny?” he asked, his own mouth turning up in response to her.

Her smile was real and true then, as she thumped the edge of his bed and gestured for him to lie down, “I was just thinking,” she said as she took the ointment from him.

“Are your thoughts always that hilarious?” he deadpanned, flopping belly first onto the crisp sheets.

“This one was.”

He pillowed his head on his folded forearms and waited. She unscrewed the cap of the jar and placed it on the nightstand by his head. “And?” he prompted.

“You're the second billionaire I've played doctor with tonight. You should calm down,” she said, her breath ghosting along the scarring in the small of his back, mistaking his sudden tension for fear, “I'm not going to hurt you.”

Oliver turned his head from the glare of the bedside lamp to the darkness across his room, “Did Tommy talk you into a sponge bath?”

“No,” she huffed out on a laugh, and Oliver was unable to control how he relaxed minutely. “But he did talk himself into a shoulder rub.” She sat up and resealed the little pot. “Clothed though, at my insistence.” She was headed back to the bathroom to put the salve away, and missed how Oliver's hands clenched in the sheets. “I'm in the office tomorrow,” she continued conversationally from across the room, “it's Wednesday.”

“I'm perfectly aware of what day tomorrow is Felicity,” he grit out.

She paused at the threshold to the bathroom turning to give him another once over, “It's also the memorial service for Malcolm Merlyn.” Oliver rolled over and followed her to the bathroom, leaning against the door jamb when he got there. “It's a private service, no press, obviously. The police will be there. They're worried about protesters.”

Oliver nodded, “What time does it start?”

“Six,” she replied placing the jar back in the medicine cabinet, and straightening it's contents. “You're expected, so is Thea. It'll be at Tommy's house.”

“And you know all this because?”

She spun to face him, her face in a scowl, “I wasn't eaves dropping, if that's what you're suggesting Oliver. I helped make the arrangements.” He tried to pin her with a stare, his own brow furrowing. “He can't use a phone! He doesn't remember-” she drew a deep breath, “he doesn't remember his dad starting the earthquake. He doesn't,” she sucked in another great hiccuping breath, pressing her fingers to her lips, “and I couldn't tell him. He thinks his father died in this tragedy as a normal man, and he doesn't-”

Oliver took two steps forward and pulled her into a hug. “You don't have to tell him,” he whispered into her hair. “You've done more than enough already. I'll tell him. I've known him his whole life.”

Felicity stepped back, Oliver cradling her hands in his own, “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears.

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Felicity had just lowered herself into the tub, full to over flowing with bubbles and bath oils. She heaved out a gusty sigh as the heat from the water soaked into her back and legs. _This is relaxing, right? This helps normal people sleep._

She had scooched down further into the bubbles and turned off the faucet with her toes, when the front door slammed open. Thea's soothing tones and Oliver's distinctive stomping footsteps penetrated the heavy doors between her and the foyer. _I'm totally hiding in here. There's no shame in that, right?_

Five whole minutes passed before, “Felicity?” _Thea._

“Yeah?”

“Is it alright if I come in?” her voice sounded thin and strained.

“I'm in the bath.”

A slight pause, and then, “That doesn't bother me, if it doesn't bother you?”

She couldn't help the tiny huff of laughter. _What is it with this family and personal space?_ “Sure, come on in.”

The door creaked open and Thea slipped in. Her face red and blotchy from crying, her mascara smeared around her eyes. “Hey,” she said softly, setting herself down on the vanity stool.

“I guess it didn't go very well?”

Thea's laugh was as watery as her eyes, “That's the understatement of the year.”

“What happened?”

“Well, Ollie just sort of, God, I don't know, blurted out about Malcolm starting the earthquake. And Tommy,” she swallowed, “he just, freaked.”

“Oh, Thea,” Felicity whispered, her heart hurting for her new friends.

Thea licked her lips, and drew a heavy breath, “I mean, Ollie isn't exactly The King of Subtle, but...”

“There was probably a better way to handle it?”

“Yeah,” Thea whispered, “not everything has to be the band-aid approach, you know?”

“How's Tommy taking it?”

“He's not really,” Thea choked on a sob. “He's just... vacant right now. I got him settled in his room but- he's so sad.”

“About his dad?”

She shook her head, “That he didn't know. That Ollie hadn't told him.”

Felicity nodded, “I'm sure they'll be alright, they've been friends for a long time. Do you want me to sit up with Tommy again?” she offered impulsively, “You look like you could use a break from the both of them.”

“Yeah,” Thea wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, and sniffed, “yeah, I think I'll head to Roy's.” 

“Another business meeting?” Felicity teased gently.

“Yeah,” she smiled faintly. “But don't tell Ollie, Ok?” she asked as she stood. “He doesn't really approve of him.” She sent Felicity a small wave as she slipped back out the door.

Felicity slid further into the bubbles when there came a second knock on the door. “Gee, I wonder who that could be?” she muttered to herself. She leaned forward and snagged the edge of the shower curtain pulling it shut. “Fair warning,” she called out, “I'm naked in here.” The silence on the other side of the door went on so long she briefly wondered if he'd left. It wasn't until she heard feet shuffling against the carpet that she knew he was still out there loitering, “You're brutal on my ego, Queen. But don't worry, the shower curtain's closed.”

She heard the door open and shut again. She could barely make out his silhouette when he set himself stiffly onto the stool. “How was your department meeting?” he asked.

She smirked, “A lot more fun then your wake.”

She heard him sigh. “Thea tattled on me?”

“Do you know how much stomping echos off of marble floors? Thea didn't have to say anything.”

“I know,” he sounded defeated, “ and I-”

_He doesn't need to rehash this, not right now._ “You headed out tonight?” she interrupted.

“Yeah, what are you-”

“I'm hanging with Tommy.”

“Right,” his tone was clipped, “of course you are.”

“Hey Oliver?” she pushed the curtain back ever so slightly. _I just need to see him._ “Please, Oliver, be careful, when you're in the Glades tonight.”

“I'm always careful,” he said to the tips of his shoes.

“No, I mean,” she flexed her hand around the shower curtain opening it further, “I was checking police reports from the Glades and I'm worried-”

His head snapped up then, “The news said crime reports are down.”

“I know,” Felicity rushed on, “and that's the problem-”

“How can reports of crime being down be a problem, Felicity?” He all but shouted at her, teeth clenched.

“Crime reports are down because there's no cops in the Glades to report them!”

“What?”

“I emailed you at lunch,” she slumped back into the tub, “the police aren't going into the Glades right now. No one really knows what's happening out there.”

Oliver stood and gripped the door knob, she could see that his back tight and bunched under the thin barrier of his dress shirt. “I'll do the best I can, Felicity.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Oliver had fled (there was no other word for it) on his bike into the night. He'd patrolled through the Glades, cutting through gangs and assorted assholes with brutal efficiency. Focusing on his years of training, his honed instincts, the rhythm of the fight.

Anything, so he wouldn't think about Tommy's teary eyes when Oliver had told him the truth about his father. _It's just like when we buried you, you know that? Just putting an empty casket in the ground._

So he wouldn't think about how disappointed Thea looked when he wasn't more careful with his best friend's emotions. _Oh, Ollie, can't you see how he's hurting? He's lost everything._

So he wouldn't think about how Felicity looked, warm, soft, in that bath tub. Her hand reaching out like she was beckoning to him, steam lifting the little wisps of her curls that had escaped the messy top knot she'd thrown her hair into. _Oliver. Please, Oliver._

Don't think about that at all. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Aglin took a slow drag off the last of his cigarette, blowing the a trail of blue smoke at the dusty windshield of his ancient Ford. “Any word yet, on Jenny?” he asked the man in the seat beside him.

“No,” Baker slumped forward, shoulders heavy with defeat.

“We're putting Cora in the ground tomorrow. It's funny, she was always after me to quit these,” he said as he shook out another smoke, “I thought maybe I'd quit now, that she's gone.”

“Like a tribute?” Baker supplied.

“Yeah,” Aglin sparked his bic and took another slow drag, “but honestly, now they're all I think about.” He tossed the lighter carelessly into the center console, “Because thinking about anything else-”

“Yeah,” Baker sniffed and shifted himself in the passenger seat, looking out the window, “We should do something though.”

“A tribute.”


	3. Chapter 3

Felicity awoke with a start when something feather light tickled along the bottom of her foot. She sat up with a gasp when the tickling came again, trying to pull her legs up into herself, only to find them clasped in a large, warm hand.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he said with a rakish smile, “How'd you sleep?”

She shoved her hair out of her face. “Like a rock,” she couldn't help the grin that tugged on the corners of her mouth at Tommy's antics. He released her ankles and Felicity levered herself off the chair and stretched her back so far it popped. “Ready for breakfast?”

“I sure am.” 

Early on, Thea and Felicity's worry for their friend lead them to around the clock monitoring, and it didn't take too long for Felicity to start sleeping in the arm chair next to Tommy's bed. And if Felicity was being honest with herself, sleeping in a house was doing a lot to keep her nightmares away, and sleeping near a friend was even better. Plus, her room felt too much like a work space now, since they ran all of the vigilante stuff out of there. 

She'd officially taken over as Tommy's primary caregiver (at least while he was at the house and not at various doctor's appointments and physical therapy sessions) a week into his convalescence, just out of convenience. (And a little gentle prodding form Raisa.) Even though he probably didn't need it anymore, it still made the most sense for her to bunk with him, for both of them.

She snagged Tommy's crutches from where they were propped in the corner, helped him maneuver to the edge of the mattress, and hovered nearby while he got himself to his feet and down the hall to breakfast. So, it was a routine that was well known to them by now. 

And at least, that's how it worked in theory.

But somehow, this morning, Felicity ended up in an undignified heap on top of Tommy. His fingers digging into her ribs as she squirmed, and flailed, and laughed herself breathless. 

“Tommy...” she gasped out before another gale of laughter overtook her, “Stop! I don't want to hurt you!”

“That's not true,” he said, his fingers dancing along her side, her arms pressed between their bodies as she pushed against his chest, “you're just mad we finally found a game I can beat you at.”

“Tommy,” she snorted out, “oh, God, Tommy!”

He let out his own huff of laughter, his smile broad, seemingly delighted by Felicity's response.

She'd finally managed to maneuver her knee to the outside of Tommy's thigh and was about to roll herself off his lap, and onto the mattress when a set of strong arms came around her from behind. One forearm low on her belly and around her hips, the other under her breasts and banded about her ribs. Her world momentarily tilted and spun before she was righted again. A strong body braced behind her, his hands still on her hips. “Are you all right?” Oliver whispered, his stubble along the shell of her ear.

“Yeah,” she nodded still breathless, but now for a different reason, “I'm fine.”

“Aw, come on, Ollie,” Tommy pouted pushing up on one elbow, “we were having fun.”

“You're not allowed to harass my employees,” he rumbled from behind her.

“Employee huh?” Tommy's eyes slid between them, and Felicity felt her face grow hot, “So, Oliver,” he pushed himself to fully sitting, “does Felicity work for you or Work For You.”

And even though she could hear the capital letters the second time he said those words she wasn't sure what he meant by it. “What?” her voice had gone thin and tight.

“You know,” Tommy continued conversationally, “do you Work For Oliver?”

“Well, yes,” she said straightening slightly, “I work in the IT department at QC.”

“No,” Tommy smirked, “I meant during his night time activities?”

Felicity started to tremble even as she felt Oliver go rigidly still. “Are- are you asking me if I'm sleeping with my boss?” she choked out.

Tommy blinked in surprise, “No Felicity, I'm asking-”

“Because my bedroom activities, and whether or not they involve Oliver...” she felt Oliver's hands flex gently against her hips, the only movement he'd made since this conversation had started. She raised her chin and gave Tommy her best disapproving glare before turning and marching out. “That really isn't any of your business,” she said from the door.

Felicity made it all the way to her bedroom, _My bedroom! Ha!_ She was riding high on the wave of her righteous anger, and if she were more honest with herself, a little bit of embarrassment. _I don't even get to use it as a bedroom because I'm helping him all night and then he has the audacity to_ , “Ugh,” she growled out as she stripped and climbed into the shower. _At least it's Wednesday, and I can get out of the house for a little while._ She sighed again, tipped her head under the shower's spray. _I've been reduced to 'looking forward to meetings at the office'_.

She washed, dried and dressed in a rush. Throwing on the first clean things she found in her closet. She clattered down the stairs and detoured to the kitchen for a slice of toast and to give Raisa a kiss on the cheek. “Tonight is family dinner night!” she called out after Felicity as she headed for the hall, “Please remind Mr. Oliver! He's missed the last two!”

“I'll do my best!” Felicity said with a wave, but she knew she wouldn't bother. He'd been spending every night, regardless of who was there for dinner, patrolling the Glades. 

~*~*~*~*~

“I'm drowning out here.” He'd said to her over the comms the night before.

She tried to reason with him again, “Well, why don't you let Digg-”

“No,” he'd interrupted her, “I've got this.”

“You can't know that,” she bit the inside of her cheek to keep the Loud Voice in check.

“I know the situation out here better than you do Felicity.”

She clenched her teeth, “I can only give you good information if you're up front with me.”

“I don't have time to chat,” he growled at her, “I have a city to save.”

“Oliver, you don't have this!” she shouted. _Loud Voice, ugh._ “And that's Ok, yo-” his comm cut out, “Oliver?” she furrowed her brow and began switching channels, “Oliver? Are you-”

“He's gone,” Diggle cut in.

“What do you mean 'he's gone'?” her voice rising in panic.

“He took his comm out,” she heard muffled voices over the ear piece, then, “-yes I am tattling on you as a matter of fact. Felicity is our support out he-” Felicity nibbled on her lip nervously, “Oh, God-damn it all to Hell!” Diggle exploded.

“What? What?” Felicity jerked upright.

“I hope you have a back up comm unit for Oliver, because he just crushed his under his boot heel.”

Felicity heaved a dramatic sigh, rubbing her forehead, “Yeah, I've got a couple of spares. Where is he now?”

“I'll be damned if I know.”

“What did he say?” Felicity asked gently.

She could practically hear the eye-roll, “He said that the Queen's have to atone for their misdeeds. That he couldn't save the city from Merlyn, but he can still save it from itself.”

“That's,” Felicity pursed her lips, “that's very... noble of him.”

Diggle sounded like he was on the move again, “That's not nobility Felicity, that's pigheadedness.”

“Where are you headed now?” She heard a car door slam.

“Home. He doesn't want me here.”

“We're doing the best we can, John.”

“I wish that were true, Felicity.”

Felicity switched off her computers and waited. Waiting rapidly turned to panic which, of course, shortly turned to anger. And before too long she was fuming. _How dare he. We have risked so much for him, to help him and he_ , she drew a sharp breath, _he would throw all that away_. 

Felicity changed in to pajamas and went through her nightly routine, still unable to shed her fury. Instead, she'd tried to stay busy getting caught up on office work. But there is only so much data entry one can do. She'd decided to start gathering her notes for next Wednesday's department meeting when she heard the stairs creak. 

It wasn't until she'd burst into the hall that she realized how bad he must be hurting to make any noise at all. She pushed his door open for him and then followed him into his room. He sprawled back onto the gray tweed sofa, arms and legs akimbo, his eyes half closed.

Felicity knelt down between his spread knees and reached forward with trembling fingers to push the hood down onto his shoulders. Her chest tightened when she saw how hollow his eyes looked, dirt smudged on his cheeks and jaw, the grease paint on his face was half gone. She lowered her hands to the front of his jacket and grasped the zipper pull firmly, tugging it down far enough to reveal the broad expanse of his chest. 

She reached out with a hand, ghosting over his jumping pectoral muscle and along his Bratva tattoo. “Does it hurt?” she asked in a voice gone breathless. He shook his head. She let her hand drift further into the vee of his parted jacket, pressing her hands against his ribs, “Here?”

“No,” his voice was a growl, but held no warning, “I'm fine Felicity.”

She pulled her hand back to her side, “Are you sure? I mean, I can get you a painkiller or a ba-”

He closed his eyes and nodded, “I'm sure.”

She stood and retreated to the door on shaking legs, “Tommy's waiting for me.” She was halfway into the hall before halting to say over her shoulder, “I'll be downstairs if you need me.”

“I know,” she heard him say as she closed the door, not turning back to him, not seeing the fire in his eyes. 

It had been their biggest fight yet. She knew tonight would be no different.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Felicity sprinted to the front door and was halfway down the wide stone steps when a throat clearing behind her caught her attention. “Hey, Digg,” she said smiling, jogging to her car.

He strode to where she was shoving her car keys into her locked door, and grabbed her gently by the elbow, and steered her back up the drive. “How about you ride with us today, Ms. Smoak?”

“Ms. Smoak?” she grinned at him, “Am I in trouble, Mr. Diggle?”

“No,” he shook his head, “you are not, but Mr. Queen's about to be.”

“Oh?” she frowned slightly, “Is he-”

“He's on my last damn nerve, is what he is.” Diggle said, all but dragging her to the town car.

Felicity lowered herself gingerly into the back seat and primly folded her hands. Not wanting to fight any more with Oliver but unsure what to say to him in the face of Tommy's accusations and their squabble last night. She tapped an irregular rhythm with her fingers as she waited. Thankfully, he didn't take long. Not thirty seconds passed before the other door opened on the back of the car. “I'm sorry,” Felicity blurted out.

Oliver pulled his foot back from where he was about to step into the car and stooped over, he was clearly surprised at seeing her, “Felicity?”

“About getting mad at Tommy? I know he's not feeling well still, and I mean with your reputation it's hardly a stretch to imagine that you're sleeping with an employee, not that you'd want to sleep with me? But the point is, that's the context for how he knows you and-”

“Felicity,” he placed his hand on her's where they were clenched in her lap, as he lowered himself into the car and slammed the door shut behind himself, “He meant the Hood.”

“What?” she said, barely audible over the car starting down the drive.

“He's starting to remember things.”

“Oh,” Felicity hunched further into herself and kept her gaze on the passing scenery, “of course.” Oliver pulled his hand back to his side of the car, his fist clenched on his thigh. He opened his mouth to speak when, “Raisa wanted me to remind you it's family dinner night. And you're expected.”

He smiled slightly, a bare turning up at the corner of his mouth, “First, Thea gets you to get after me about my behavior, now Raisa's acting like you're my keeper,” he shook his head. “Are you next on that list John?”

John smiled at his boss thorough the rear-view mirror, “Why do you think she's riding with us today?”

Oliver tilted his head back and smiled at the roof of the car, “You can report to Raisa,” he said with an arch of his brow as he turned towards Felicity, “that I will be in tonight for dinner.”

“Great,” she said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, “now it's on me if you misbehave.”

His hand slid across the leather of the back seat to tangle his fingers with her's. “I will never do anything to put you in danger Felicity,” he said earnestly. “I promise. Even if that danger is my tiny Russian housekeeper.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Felicity begged off the department meeting when she found out it would reconvene after lunch and probably keep going at least until three thirty. Instead she called John, eager to get back to the estate.

“What do you need back at the house?” he'd asked her when she'd called him from the lobby, where she was nonchalantly hiding behind a potted palm.

She swallowed guiltily and whispered into her cell, “I need to apologize to Tommy. I- I wasn't very nice this morning, and now-”

“Meet me in the parking garage, level three.” Then he hung up on her.

Felicity smiled at her phone, grateful for his swift efficiency. When she arrived in the parking garage she saw John on the phone through the un-tinted windshield. 

His head was pressed into his hand and his mind obviously elsewhere, because there was no way he would have startled so bad when she opened the car door if he had seen her. He was sliding his phone into the pocket of his coat when she dropped herself into the front seat.

“You're supposed to ride in the back,” he nodded over his shoulder to the plush interior.

“But these seats are heated,” she said, snapping her belt in place.

“All the seats are heated.”

“But this way I can mess with the radio.”

“There's a separate stereo system back there.”

She heaved a breath and adjusted her glasses on the end of her nose. “I'd rather ride up here,” she admitted.

“I'm the driver.”

“You're my friend,” she insisted, “and I don't want to shout if I don't have to.”

“You got your fill of that already?” he said with a knowing smile.

Felicity groaned, “Has he always been this stubborn?” Diggle shot her a look as they pulled out of the parking garage. “Ok, the answer to that is 'yes' obviously. But it was less scary when he was just picking up what the police couldn't handle.”

“He's still doing that.”

“No,” Felicity shook her head, “patrolling the _entire_ Glades by himself, is not picking up police slack, it's a suicide mission.”

John arched a disbelieving eyebrow at her, “Have you told him that?”

“Yes I did actually, last week,” she nodded twice. “And I'm pretty sure he told me to 'fuck off'.”

“Pretty sure?”

“It was in Russian. But it sounded like how I imagine 'fuck off' would sound if you were to say it in Russian. Or maybe any of the Slavic languages. _Is_ Russian a Slavic language?”

“I have no idea.”

Felicity heaved another sigh and settled more firmly into the soft leather of the car, “He needs... I don't know. Help? More than us.”

“He needs a unit,” Diggle offered. Felicity hummed encouragingly, “We have Ops, that's you,” he said with a nod, “we have direct support, that's me. But he can't be a squad by himself, it's not possible.”

“What do you mean?”

He sent her a small smile, “A squad is eight people, minimum, and even assuming he counts for half of the soldiers, that still puts us at the equivalent of six. So...” he said trailing off.

“We need to get Oliver a friend.”

“Yep,” John said nodding slowly.

“Have you told him this?” she asked rolling her head along the head rest to look John in the eye.

“I have,” he said with a smile, “and I'm pretty sure he told me to 'fuck off' in Mandarin.”

Felicity snuck down the hall to Tommy's room as soon as she'd arrived back at the manor. _Maybe he'll be asleep and I can do this later, like way later, like never._ She pushed the door open and held her breath, “Tommy?”

“Yeah?” his voice was rough, like he'd been sleeping.

“Hey,” she said softly nudging the door open a little further, not daring to put even a single toe over the threshold into his space.

He pushed his hair away from his face with his good arm, his cheeks lined with pillow case marks. “You want to come in?” He tilted his head to the side.

“Yeah,” she said nodding, sliding up to the side of his bed, resting her hand on his foot where if was peaking out of the sheets.

“You haven't asked to come in for a long time.” His tone wasn't accusing, but Felicity looked away guiltily despite herself.

“I wasn't sure you'd want to talk to me.”

“What?” he tugged once on her hand encouraging her to sit next to him on the overstuffed mattress. “No way.”

“I was a jerk this morning,” she admitted, still not making eye contact, “and I'm sorry.”

“I'm sorry too,” he nodded solemnly, “because jerk is not a very good look on you.” She snorted as he scooted over to make room on the bed for her. She snuggled in and propped herself up against his cushion mound. He tossed her the remote with his good hand and said, “You pick. Anything but The Antiques Roadshow.”

“Was Thea all over that again?” she asked curling further into his side.

“Yes!” he exclaimed. “What is it with her and that program?”

“I don't even want to know,” she said pointing the remote at the flat screen in the corner. “But today? It's your lucky day pal,” she said with a decisive click of the remote, “because it's Shark Week.”

When Thea got home she pushed open the door to Tommy's room and flopped face first on the sheets pushing Felicity into the center of bed and even further into Tommy's side.

“Uggggghhh,” she groaned out, muffled by the pillows, “I hate building inspections.”

“Are you doing it the above-the-board way?” Tommy asked, his eyes on a Great White menacing a man in a diving cage.

“Of course,” Thea got herself into a sitting position and leaned into Felicity.

“That's your problem, it's a cash business with building inspectors.”

“That can't be true,” Thea huffed.

“It totally is,” Tommy nodded sagely at the screen, “ten thousand.”

“Well, I'm not going to do it that way,” Thea said while Felicity patted her supportively on the arm. “It's illegal.”

Tommy smiled at her over Felicity's head, “You're going to be in building limbo for a while then, just FYI.”

Thea groaned again and threw herself into Felicity's lap. “I know what we need,” she said while Felicity gently brushed the hair out of her face. “We could all do with a lovely glass of red. I know where there's a nice bottle in the cellar.”

“That sounds fabulous,” Tommy smiled at her, “but you are underage, my dear. So, it looks like it'll just be Ms. Smoak and me and the lovely bottle of red.”

Thea rolled to her knees and shot Tommy a teasing look, “Well, you're not actually allowed to drink with your meds, buddy.”

Tommy frowned, “I guess it'll just be Felicity then, with the lovely bottle of red.”

“No way,” Felicity shook her head, “I don't drink alone. No matter how nice it is.”

“Well,” Thea said folding her hands daintily, “I won't tell if you won't.”

“Deal.”

By the time Oliver got home Family Dinner Night was in full swing. It was also, apparently, three sheets to the wind. 

Felicity and Thea were in a heap in the middle of the bed cackling like witches as Tommy tried (and failed) to say 'Megalodon of the Miocene Era'. 

“It's a stupid name,” Tommy said with an indignant sniff, “no wonder they went extinct.”

When Thea suddenly righted herself, “Did you hear that?”

Felicity stilled, “Hear what?”

“Felicity!” Oliver.

She untangled herself from Thea, who was completely unhelpful, and Tommy, who was still largely immobile. “I'll be right back,” she said from the door.

She sock skated down the hall way and into the foyer, still giggling. 

She stood for a moment at the foot of the stairs, unable to locate Oliver. “Felicity,” he bit out from half way up to the second floor where he was clutching at the banister. She turned and darted towards him. She wiggled under his side and slung her arm around his waist. He hissed in pain and she grimaced in sympathy.

“What did you get into between here and the office?”

“Someone's hijacking FEMA relief trucks.”

“You're not supposed to get into stuff like that with out me or Diggle,” she fumed.

“You were busy,” he grit his teeth as she tried to shove the door to his room open one-handed, eventually propping him against the wall.

“I wasn't busy!” she insisted as she maneuvered him into his bathroom, “I was hanging out with Tommy and Thea!”

“Where's your comm?”

Felicity's knees locked up, “It's in my purse.”

“And where's your purse?”

“In my bedroom.”

“And you were?”

“Most definitely not in my bedroom.”

“So,” he said, stripping off his ruined shirt, “like I said.”

“But what about Digg?” she said as she rummaged through his medicine cabinet.

“Gave him the night off, he's having some-” he hesitated, “some personal problems, I guess.”

Felicity's mind drifted back to John looking so defeated on the phone earlier. “So you decided to do this yourself?”

“I don't have another choice, Felicity,” and even though he was whispering, she winced.

“Here,” she said turning towards him with the bandages and ointment in her hands, “this time, let me.”

He propped one hip on the vanity edge and let her get to work.

“Thanks,” he said gruffly when she had finished putting the supplies away after watching him swallow two painkillers. “I'm sorry I missed dinner,” he said over his shoulder as he headed out into his room.

“Oh, you haven't missed anything,” she said, sending him a smile through the mirror, “we've been on a very long appetizer course.”

“What,” he said sliding into a clean t-shirt, “like crackers and wine?”

“Yep,” she said popping the 'p', “but with no crackers, and a little more frat boy than just red wine.”

He turned to where Felicity was leaning against the door frame of the bathroom and crossed to her in two long strides. Oliver placed one massive hand on her shoulder, and tipped her head back with a gentle finger on her chin so she could look up into his wary eyes. Her own eyes were glassy and fathomless, “Are you drunk?” he asked.

She shook her head slightly, grimacing as her brain felt like it was sloshing around in her skull. “No, but I think Tommy might be.”

“Tommy might be?”

“He can't stop laughing.”

“Can't or won't?”

“Can't. And he can't say megalodon.”

“Megalodon?”

“We were watching Shark Week.”

“Shark Week?” he asked, his eyebrows creeping into his hairline.

“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?”

“No,” he said with a strong hand on her upper back, “I'm going to get you some dinner.” He steered her onto the balcony and down the stairs. “And Tommy's been drinking?”

“Oh yeah,” she nodded slowly, “but he hasn't had as much as...” her voice trailed off while she pursed her lips and furrowed her brow.

“As much as?” Oliver prompted.

“As much as me.”

“You said you weren't drunk?”

“I might have been lying?”

“Is that answer meant to sound like a question?”

Felicity dug her heels in and ground to a halt half way down the corridor to Tommy's room. “What do you want?” He drew in a deep breath, but was brought up short when her hand landed on his pec. “Yes or No only please,” she'd closed her eyes and and pressed on her temple with her other hand, “I don't feel so good.”

Oliver brought his hands up to gently cup her elbows, his thumbs tracing light circles on the soft skin of her inner arm.

“Have you been drinking?”

“Yes.”

“Have Thea and Tommy been drinking?”

“Also, yes.”

“My sister's underage and Tommy's on painkillers.”

She looked up at him defiantly, “If you're allowed to make your own bad decisions so is everyone else.”

His grip tightened, ever so slightly, on her arms, “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Felicity slid her hand from his pec to his side and pressed. Oliver let out a grunt of pain, “This bad decision.” Her hand crossed his abdomen and tapped twice on his hip as he bit back a wince, “Also this bad decision.”

“That's not a bad decision,” he hissed at her, “it's what had to be done.”

She rolled her eyes and swayed slightly, dropping her hand to her side, “I know. Your one man crusade to save the city, I get it,” she pulled out of his grasp and headed to the kitchen, “Can you get them?” she tilted her head towards Tommy's door. “I'll plate up the lasagna.”

“So you've been drinking,” Oliver said when he opened the door, loudly enough for Felicity to hear and grit her teeth. “You're not to supposed to drink while you're on your meds.”

She heard Tommy laugh, “Pffft, whatever- _Mom_.” Then Thea joined in with a fit of giggling.

“Dinner!” she yelled down the hallway, eager to distract Oliver from whatever he wanted to fight about next. And figuring the best thing for the rest of them was giant servings of pasta.

It was slightly tipsy pandemonium as they all took their usual seats around the dining room table. _I can't believe I have a usual seat at the Queen dining room table_.

Thea helped Tommy into his chair while Felicity passed the food, extra napkins, and the bare minimum of utensils. Tommy and Thea were both still a little sloppy. Oliver looked fit to murder.

“It's too bad you missed Raisa,” Thea said with a remorseful smile.

“Yeah,” Oliver cleared his throat and looked at his plate, “I got caught up in something,” he sent a glance to Felicity, “at work.”

“So,” Thea continued brightly, “You must be excited to get out of that leg cast soon?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tommy said around a mouthful of pasta. “This walking one is awesome, but I'll be happy to put it all behind me.”

“Laurel's probably happy about that too?”

“Why would she be?” Tommy said. Oliver went completely still, his hands tensing a fraction around his cutlery.

Thea blinked once, “So you can, um... resume normal couple types of activities?”

Tommy let out a bitter laugh, “The only person Laurel wants to resume activities of any kind with is Oliver.” 

Felicity inhaled sharply as she felt her stomach drop.

Oliver drew a heavy breath and raised his head, placing his fork on the edge his plate. “You can't know that, Tommy.”

Tommy's look of disbelief spoke volumes in the ensuing silence, “Actually, I'm pretty sure I can.”

“Tommy, you don't-”

“Don't what? Remember? Because I do. Was that your hope all along? That it would all stay forgotten?”

“No, of course not!” Oliver's hands clenched, “I just-”

“Slept with my girlfriend.” Tommy blurted out, “Ex-girlfriend.” The corners of his mouth turned down. “There's no denying that anymore.”

“Ollie!” Thea exclaimed, “How could you?”

“I didn't-”

“No,” Tommy waggled his head back and forth, “I'm pretty sure that you did.”

“Ollie?” came Thea's high pitched squeak.

“You gave me one hell of a pep talk though,” Tommy continued, delicately cutting into his pasta. “You know, before you rushed over there yourself,” he smiled at Oliver in mocking sincerity. “But bygones are bygones! You want my blessing? You can have it.” His jaw flexed, “You already have everything else.” Thea placed a gentle hand on her friend's shoulder, comforting him as best she could. “You know,” Tommy said smiling at her, “I would have taken Felicity for a yeller.” Oliver's head snapped to Felicity's seat to find it vacant, food untouched, napkin folded neatly on the table. “Maybe she's one of those 'yelling is bad, silence is death' sort of girls?”

Oliver pushed back from the table with such force he almost toppled his chair, “I'm going to get her.”

“That's our Ollie,” came Tommy's forced cheerfulness, with a wave of his fork, “always off to get the damsel!”

Oliver checked the kitchen and Tommy's room before bolting up the sitars to Felicity's seldom used guest suite. The crack under her door was dark. _Oh, God, what if she's-?_ He pushed into her room without bothering to knock and was momentarily blinded from the harsh change of brightly lit hall way to dark bedroom interior. 

He flicked the lights on to see Felicity squinting and blinking behind her workstation. “You can't just turn the light on like that.” She passed her hands across her eyes, “God, they feel like they're being poked out.”

He blew out a sigh he hadn't realized he'd been holding, “What are you doing Felicity?” he stepped carefully over the threshold.

She spun back to the work station, “I'm doing what I'm here to do, Oliver.”

Oliver frowned and took another cautious step into her room, “What are you talking about?”

“This is why I'm here isn't it?” she pointed angrily at the computer monitor, “IT girl? Google Girl? Girl Friday? I work best inside clearly defined parameters Oliver. This is the box-” she swallowed thickly, “this is the box I'm in.”

Oliver risked another step towards her. “Felicity, it's not-” 

“Isn't it?” she challenged with an arch of her brow. “You seem to be really fond of the 'Ollie Queen, Wayward Son, Irascible Playboy' box.”

“Felicity,” his voice had taken on a pleading quality, “I'm not-”

“You also seem really fond of the 'brooding, man-pain, loner box' now that I'm thinking about it,” she interrupted him again.

“Felicity, please-”

She stood, steadying herself with one hand on the back of her chair, “Oh, you don't like that box either? Well that's a shame isn't it? It's a real shame you don't like any of your boxes. And what's even worse is you're tying all our hands.” 

“Are you mixing your metaphors?”

She stared at him flatly, “That's what you're focusing on? My mixed metaphors?”

He clenched his fists angrily at his side, “I'm not... keeping you in that box you think you're in Felicity, I'm not tying you to anything. I'm-” he drew a breath, clearly trying to calm himself, “I'm trying to help you. Help everyone.” 

She closed the distance between them, placing her palm gently on his forearm, “Until you deal with this... stuff, you're keeping a lot of hands tied, not just mine.” She stepped closer to him, tipping her head back to look into his eyes. “Pushing us away? Trying to do it all on your own? That's not going to help. If your hands are tied, Oliver, you don't break your wrist to set yourself free.” Her other hand circled his thumb, brushing along the base of his palm, and found his heart, beating steady, and true under her fingers. “You find someone you can trust. You find someone who can untie you.”

Oliver pulled Felicity into a gentle embrace, nuzzling into her hair, “I know,” he choked out.

She tugged on his bicep pulling him further into her arms. “Good,” she whispered back. Felicity leaned slightly away then, but left her hands on his forearms. “Can you talk to Tommy? Clear the air with him?”

Oliver blinked rapidly before tilting his head to the ceiling, “It's not like that- me and Lau-”

“You don't owe me any explanations, Oliver,” Felicity said as she sunk back into her chair, a slightly defeated air about her. “But that's not true for you and Tommy.”

He closed his eyes and nodded, “Yeah,” he whispered. “When do you usually head down to bed?” he asked as he spun on his heel and headed to the door.

“I think I'll sleep up here tonight.”

The smile he sent her from where he'd retreated to the doorway was small but genuine. “I'll let Tommy know.”

“Thanks Oliver,” she called after him as he closed the door.

The next morning found Tommy Merlyn in the foyer of the Queen mansion dressed to the nines with a silver tipped cane in one hand and his arm in a sling, the last remnants of his injuries. He groaned as Felicity shuffled up next to him, bag slung around her shoulders, briefcase in hand, “Ugh, you are never allowed to be the party planner ever again.”

“Sorry,” she sent him a rueful smile, “I never realized what a light weight you were.”

“Pffffft, no,” he scoffed, “the wine was fine, nice even. The Jagger bombs were uncalled for.”

“That's all on you,” she said turning towards him. “Here,” she dropped her case to the floor, and reached for his dress shirt, “your collar's crooked. And your tie is a mess, did you-”

“Yes,” He interrupted her, “I did, in fact, do this one-handed.”

She flicked her eyes up to his and noticed how they were crinkled up at the corner. “There,” Felicity said after she'd set him to rights, “all ready for a day in the CEO's office.”

“Lawyer's office,” he corrected her, “wrongful death suits against Dad, and the company.”

“Oh,” she said, her eyes sad.

“They can have it,” he replied, his voice dark.

Felicity placed her hand reassuringly on his forearm, “Maybe you should set up a charity for quake survivors?”

“Really?”

She sent him a silly grin, “Isn't that what you wealthy do? Set up endowments? Have charity galas?”

“Yes, actually it is Ms. Smoak,” he placed his hand on hers at the juncture of his elbow. “But I don't know if I'm up to organizing anything myself, being recently recovered from my terrible ordeal and all.”

“Oh look at you, you smooth bastard,” she laughed. “All right,” she said, “I'll help you plan, even though I'm apparently a terrible party planner.”

“Well just make sure the bartenders know No Jagger Bombs Allowed. And I'll give you a ride to the office for your troubles.” Tommy waited for Felicity to pick her briefcase up off the floor before escorting her to the door and into his waiting car.

Neither of them saw Oliver watching from the upstairs balcony.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, apparently, loaded the wrong version of this chapter in. It's not massively different, but if you're re-reading and it seems weird, that's why. Sorry Folks for my mess up.

“Oliver!” her comm cut out twice. “Digg?”

“Yeah?” he heaved out.

“I lost Oliver I don't know wh-”

Oliver's comm crackled back to life, “I'm here Felicity, I'm in pursuit.”

“To where?”

“South,” he panted over the unit.

“Diggle? He's headed towards you, rapidly. Can you get a look at the guy?”

“Red hoodie,” Diggle answered.

Her comm piece screeched and she yanked it from her ear with a wince.

There were muffled voices a second later and Felicity slotted it back in. “....gonna lose his shit.”

 _Diggle_. “Who's gonna lose their shit?”

“Who else?” _Oliver._

“Why?”

She heard Diggle draw a deep breath over the phone, “It's Roy.”

“What's Roy?”

“Red Hoodie is Roy.”

“Who's Roy?”

“Thea's Roy.”

 _Oh God_. “Oliver is gonna lose his shit.”

“I don't think he knows who it is yet, but he will in a minute.”

“Oliver?” Felicity said frantically, “Oliver, please don't arrow this one.”

“I wasn't going to. I was just going to put the fear of God into him.”

“Really why?” she slumped slightly, the panic receding.

“He was getting into it with a bunch of drug dealers.”

“He's a drug dealer?” the panic swung back, full force.

“No he was fighting with them. Five to one, can you believe it?”

“Yeah, imagine that,” Felicity said under her breath. “I think you should let this one go and come back to the mansion, right now,” She said right on the edge of the Loud Voice. Felicity heard the ambient noise fade and Oliver's breath return to normal, “Oliver, please.”

She heard his deep inhale, “Are you alright, Felicity?”

“Yeah,” she nodded at the computer screens, “I'm fine, but... can we wrap up early? You got the actual bad guys right? Why not let this one go tonight.” She could practically hear his waffling, “Diggle's got the car. Don't you John?” _Please, oh please._

“Are you sure you're all right?”

“Yeah, Oliver, I'm fine.” She held her breath.

“All right, fine,” then his comm cut out.

“What the Hell is this about, Felicity? If his sister's dating some dirt-bag then sho-”

“Baby Vigilante,” she interrupted.

“What?” 

“She's dating a Baby Vigilante, Digg.”

“Ok, not a dirt bag, a Baby Vigilante, what difference does that make?”

“And what does Oliver need to make a unit?”

“Oliver needs- Oh my God,” he whispered over the beeping of the buckle up warning as he started the car, “you're a genius.”

“This is what I keep saying.”

Felicity leaned back in her chair feeling like she'd just run a marathon, heart racing, breath heaving. She flicked off her work station and began to pace, trying to plan the next few steps in this little scheme of hers. She was on the second circuit of her room when she heard a door down the hall slam. She bolted to the balcony to catch a glimpse of Thea headed down the stairs, “Thea,” she called after her friend.

Thea turned and spun, tilting her head back to see Felicity leaning over the railing, “Something's up with Roy!” she called back, “I'm headed to his place.”

“Oh, Ok! Do you want me to-”

“Tell Ollie?” Thea finished. “No way!” And then the door slammed, and she was gone.

Felicity headed down the stairs aimlessly, with some vague idea of bouncing ideas around with Tommy. She needed to focus her energy, her thoughts and keep away the panic and fear. She stopped abruptly, nearly running Raisa down in the hallway that led to Tommy's room, “He is resting now, Miss Felicity,” she said gently steering Felicity back into the kitchen. “Are you hungry my dear?”

Felicity shook her head, “No, I don't think so?”

“Are you sleeping?”

“Enough,” Felicity whispered, slipping into a chair.

“You don't look well,” Raisa said measuredly, leaning against the kitchen island.

“I don't feel well,” Felicity tipped her head towards the table, hair swinging in front of her face to hide her wince.

Raisa turned her back on Felicity and rummaged through the fridge, “What you need are a good night's sleep and good friends.” She turned back to Felicity placing a glass of milk on the table in front of her, “And if you can't have one, you must have more of the other.” Raisa's eyes slid over Felicity's face, lingering on her hollow cheeks and dark smudges under her eyes. “I'll see you in the morning, my dear.”

“Good night, Riasa.”

Felicity finished her milk and marched back into her room. _Ok, I need friends, allies. Who do I have available? Not Thea. But I have John, and Tommy_. She nodded her head. _Definitely Tommy. He's Oliver's friend and he knows about the Hood. Yes, good._

She slipped into her pajamas and headed back down to Tommy's room. _I hope he's not still asleep._

He perked up when she pushed the door to his room open, “Hey good-lookin'.”

She smiled in relief, “Hey Tommy.”

“What brings you into my humble abode? Not that I'm complaining about you being in here but-”

“It's Oliver.”

He heaved a sigh, “Of course it is.”

She lowered herself gently to the edge of his bed, “It's not like that, it's,” she pinched her eyes closed, “you know how he's the Hood right?”

“Yep.”

“And you know how the Glades are dangerous? Like, even more than before?”

“Yep.”

“And how it's too much for him to handle it all by himself?”

“Right.” Tommy drew out the word until it practically snapped.

“Well, I- we, Diggle and I- think he needs a partner.”

“Isn't that what he has in you?”

“Well, yes,” she said squaring her shoulders, “But I'm not into the punching and the kicking, and-”

“They're overwhelmed?”

“Yes,” she exhaled, grateful for his understanding.

Tommy's eyes swept over his leg, still in the walking cast, “Are you trying to butter me up so I'll-”

“No,” she interrupted placing a hand on his chest, “nothing, like that.”

He huffed indignantly, “I'll have you know I rocked the leather pants look, once upon a time.”

“I'm sure you did Tommy,” she said soothingly, “but we think the best option might be Roy.”

“Thea's Roy?”

“Thea's Roy.”

“Does Thea know about this yet?”

“Oliver doesn't know about this yet.”

He smiled then, “You better tell Thea as soon as it's all settled. Honesty's always been really important to her.”

“Really?” Felicity questioned, “Because she asks me to lie to Oliver all the time.”

“About her going out with Roy?”

“Yeah,” she settled in next to him on the bed, her hand lying on the sheets between them.

Tommy scoffed, “He knows about her sneaking out. No I mean,” he covered her hand with his own, “important stuff, big stuff.” Felicity turned to him and tilted her head to the side in question, “You know she hasn't been to see her Mom?” Felicity nodded, “It's because she felt lied too, betrayed. That sort of stuff has always mattered to her, them, her and Ollie. People being open with them.”

“Really?” she said with a quirk of her brow. “Are we talking about the same Oliver?”

Tommy grinned, “I'm not saying he gives that himself, but it's what he expects from others.”

Felicity nodded sagely, “That explains so much about them.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Felicity bit the corner of her lip to keep from laughing, “they've both busted in on me while I'm in the tub.”

“Both of them!” Tommy spluttered out a laugh, “And you wouldn't even give me a single sponge bath?”

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, bumped her shoulder on his, and smiled up at him, “Are you with me on this?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I don't want him getting himself killed out there, either.”

Oliver burst in a moment later, eyes wide, his jacket and hood already gone, Diggle nowhere to be seen. 

Felicity saw the tension in his frame as he swept the space for threats. His eyes lingered on the smile on Felicity's face, and where she had clasped hands with Tommy. “Are you alright?” _How can he do his arrow voice without the distorter?_

“Yeah, I'm fine,” she said, her smile widening. 

The dirty t-shirt stretched across his massive chest became partially obscured when he folded his arms across it and braced his legs apart, just a hint of the paint left around his piercing eyes. “So what's the emergency?”

“I didn't say it was an emergency Oliver, I said-”

“Felicity,” he growled, low and full of warning.

She tensed, her hand reflexively giving Tommy's another squeeze, Oliver's eyes narrowed at their contact, muscles tense, jaw tight.

“Oliver,” Felicity began, trying to steady herself. _This is right_ , she told herself fiercely, _he needs help, he needs-_. She pulled in lungful of air, “I just feel it's important that I tell you in person-”

“We,” Tommy cut in with a short nod and a sly smile, “Felicity _and I_ have something we want to tell you.” 

“Yes,” Felicity smiled at him sweetly, leaning in to him slightly, appreciative that he really was backing her up, “we.”

“Really?” Oliver rounded on his friend, his voice harsh. “We?”

"Yes," Tommy answered, eyes full of practiced innocence, " _we_."

"This is something that's been coming for a long time, Oliver," Felicity interjected, hoping she could dial back the rising tension, but her words just seem to ratchet it up further.

"A long time?" Oliver ground out, shifting from foot to foot, looking for all the world like he was ready to brawl.

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" Felicity started, "There's only so much that-"

“Felicity and I, we think it might be time for you to get a new partner,” Tommy interrupted her, his eyes sparkling.

“And why is that?”

“It's dangerous out there Oliver,” Tommy said with a slow shake of his head, “you know that better than most.”

“Are you saying I can't protect her?” The tension, and now the anger, were pouring off of him in waves.

“I'm not saying that at all,” Tommy replied, a diplomatic tone in his voice.

Felicity cleared her throat gently. “It's because _we_ have developed some,” she tilted her head in thought, “extenuating circumstances now. And while I completely believe in your abilities as The Hood, Tommy and I think it might be for the best if-”

And then, suddenly, Oliver exploded in fury, “Are you going to let Tommy make all your decisions for you now?”

“What?” Felicity shrieked.

“After he's chased you out of helping me, what's next?”

“Oliver, I don't want to stop-”

“He'll make you quit your job, you know that right,” his jaw flexed. 

“What does this have to do with my job at QC?” she didn't screech, but it was a near thing.

“That's how the Merlyns are Felicity, old fashioned,” he spit the words out at her, like they we poison. 

He turned to Tommy and nodded coldly, “I wish you all the best.” Then he was stomping away down the hall.

Felicity turned her shocked eyes to Tommy's amused ones, “Go ahead,” he nodded towards the door, a smirk on his face.

“What on Earth was that about?”

“When you figure it out, you'll let me know?”

Felicity heaved a sigh and bounced off the bed, starting after Oliver. She found him in the library standing at one of the windows staring sightlessly out onto the grounds. Felicity padded into the room on bare feet, not bothering to turn on a light. “Oliver,” she whispered. Even though his arms were hanging loosely at his side, his hands clenched.

“What do you want, Felicity,” his voice was thick.

“I want to start again,” she said, her voice a little bolder this time. “Tommy and I- and Diggle- “ she emphasized with an arched brow, even though he couldn't see her, “think you need a new partner. Not because we're leaving,” she rushed on, “but because you shouldn't have to manage the whole of the Glades alone.”

He turned towards her slowly, his face half in shadow, back lit by the window, “You're not leaving?” His tone was gentle, but his body was rigid.

“No,” she said gently, surprise clear in her voice, “Oliver, I wouldn't-,” she raised her hand tentatively towards him, and seeing his shoulders relax, she stepped forward haltingly, “I wouldn't ever.” He inhaled deeply and exhaled that breath just as slowly, a minute amount of tension having left his frame. “It's Roy though,” she continued on, dropping her hand again to her side.

“Roy?”

“Thea's Roy? He's Red Hoodie, from earlier tonight.”

All the rigidity she'd coaxed out of him was back in a flash.

“And you think we should bring him in?” He folded his arms across his chest in a challenge, “And what precisely does he offer?'

“What do you mean?”

“You're the brains, Diggle's support and Roy would be...?”

“Another person in the field, backup.”

He shook his head, defiant, “No.”

“Why not?” she tried to keep the shriek out of her voice, and took another hesitant step towards him.

“Because he's my sister's... boyfriend,” he sounded as if it pained him to say it, “and I won't do that to her.”

“Do what?”

She could see his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, “I won't get him killed, I can't do that to Thea.” 

Felicity's mouth dropped open, “But you'll get yourself killed out of stupid, stubborn pride instead?”

“It's not stubborn pride, it's... it's what I have to do, Felicity.”

“I know, and you can do it. But we'll be there to help. All of us, _more_ of us.”

She saw his eyes flash in the dim light, “Not if I don't want you too.”

“What do you mean?”

“You're here because I allow it, Felicity. And that can change.”

“You wouldn't.” she whispered, her voice full of ire.

“I would do whatever it takes to keep you from harm.”

“You don't get to make my decisions for me Oliver.” She saw the small muscle in his jaw tick, twice.

“The Foundry is my property,” his voice was low, veering into dangerous, “and if I need to force you out of there to keep you safe, I will.”

“Actually,” Felicity spun on her toes to see Tommy leaning against the door frame, “as manager of Verdant, I have complete control over who we sublease space to, not you.”

“You quit!” Oliver shouted.

“I never formally resigned,” Tommy replied with a wave of his hand. “At least, I don't think I did? It doesn't matter. The point is, the decision is mine. So,” he turned to Felicity a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, “how do you and Mr. Diggle feel about renting a super-hero base once it's back up and running?”

She bit back a small smile, “I think that sounds delightful, Mr. Merlyn.”

Oliver was suddenly a solid presence at her back, his chest grazing her shoulder blades, “Are you blackmailing me?”

“Yeah,” Tommy said with a self satisfied smirk, “I think I am.”

Felicity turned to Oliver, and tipped her head back to look into his eyes, “I'll find out the next time Thea's at the club. Roy will probably be there,” she laid a hand gently on his shoulder, the cotton of his shirt soft under her hand, “you can talk to him then.” 

She turned then, the curls at the ends of her pony tail brushing against his abdomen. She practically skipped to Tommy, her glee barely in check. She placed the same hand briefly on his forearm, and smiled, “Goodnight, gentleman.” And then she was gone.

Oliver slid his attention from the bouncing blonde ponytail disappearing up the stairs to his smirking friend. “What?”

“'I wish you the best'.'' Tommy's voice was mocking and low. He shook his head with a smirk, “Man, you should have seen your face.”

Oliver held on to his anger until the count of five, and then the corners of his eyes crinkled up. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he said with an imperial arch of his brow.

“You stomped away, Oliver,” Tommy let out a small chuckle, “stomped, like you were five and taking your toys home.” He turned to leave when, “And I'll have you know,” he said waving a finger in the air, “we Merlyns happen to be very pro-woman in the work force.”

Oliver smiled ruefully and tilted his head towards the stairs, “So...”

“She's my friend, Oliver. And she's trying to be your friend.”

“So, you're not...”

“No way man. Picking up girls who are hot for Oliver Queen hasn't really worked out all that well for me.” He turned to the door then, “I'm headed to bed.” He nodded once and hobbled down the hall.

Oliver thought about calling after his friend, about shooting down any silly notions or wacky ideas about Felicity and him. But the feeling it left in his bones was too warm and his smile was too broad for him to want to open up his mouth and refute them. 

At breakfast the next morning Felicity figured that a cold, fast opening was probably for the best. “Hey, Thea,” she slid next to the kitchen island half way between Thea, and Tommy, “How's the club shaping up?”

She caught Tommy wince over the top of his coffee mug as he shook his head slightly.

Thea gave her a once over with a raised brow and resumed buttering her toast, “Why?”

“Because I want to see it,” Tommy interrupted from the breakfast nook, “but she was afraid you wouldn't let me, until it's all done.”

Thea turned on the marble floor and gave Tommy a sweet smile, “Don't be silly!” she walked across the floor towards him in her soft slippers, “I'd be happy to show you around.” She settled herself next to Tommy and gave Felicity another appraising once over, “Do you really want to see it?” her tone was slightly defensive, her shoulders hunched.

“Of course,” Felicity slid in opposite them, “I worked there a little... before,” she took a sip of coffee to hide her nerves, “I'd like to see it again. It's probably a lot different, with you being in charge this time?”

Thea smiled mysteriously, “You'll just have to wait and see.”

Tommy groaned dramatically, “Don't be like that, Speedy.”

“Ok,” she said bouncing a little in her seat. It was clear she could barely contain her excitement. “This afternoon I have the bar-ware coming in at four. So, if you want-”

“We'll be there,” he threw his arm around her.

Felicity set her cup carefully on the table and stood, wincing slightly as her feet slid around in her heels. 

“Are you all right,” Thea asked, worry crinkling her brow.

“Oh, yeah,” Felicity said distractedly as she tottered to the sink, cup in hand, “but it's Wednesday, so that means the department meeting, and the meeting means office-wear.

“Haven't you got your insurance check yet?”

“Yep,” she called from where she was stooped over the dishwasher, “But I don't know how much my new place is going to be, plus I have to replace everything. And as much as I hate to admit it, new shoes aren't really high on the priority list right now.”

“How long is the wait for housing,” Tommy asked.

Felicity turned fast enough to just catch a glimpse of Thea as she headed out into the hallway. “I'm not sure,” she said on a sigh, “I know I'm not high on the priority list though.”

“Where are you hoping to end up?” he took a sip of his coffee.

“I'm not really hoping anymore. Wherever I can afford I guess?”

“What do you mean?” Tommy's head tilted in confusion.

She smiled at him, “You know market theory, right Tommy?”

“Umm, yes?”

She laughed then, “Well, then you know how price is determined by how much of the supply is in demand. That's why oil is expensive?”

“Right,” he nodded earnestly, “absolutely.”

“And the demand for housing in Starling is the same as ever, because there's been no major change in population, even with the casualties.”

“Right,” He nodded again, his brow slightly furrowed.

“Except now the supply has gone down.”

“Because of the quake,” Tommy said soberly.

“Right,” Felicity said lowering herself back into her chair, “but there were also fires, and vandalism and stuff like that. So, with demand still up, but supply low that means price?”

“It increases!” Tommy said with a smile, like he'd just won a prize, “I remember this now! Economics 101! But, oh,” he said, his face falling, “that's not good for you is it?”

“Nope,” she said, “not really.” She had started to stand again when she found herself nose to toe with a pair of black patent leather pumps. She blinked twice in confusion before finding the hand that held them and followed that to the arm, and then to the shoulder and finally the happy face of Thea Queen.

“Here,” she waggled the shoes at Felicity, “I think they'll fit you better than what you've got on.”

Felicity gaped and then smiled, broad and uninhibited, “I'm sure modesty says I'm supposed to demure and refuse, but forget that noise! Thea, these are beautiful!”

Thea shrugged jerkily, “They're not really, they're just basic-”

Felicity stood and slid off her other shoes, “They're perfect, and versatile, and-”

“They're at least three seasons ago, and I'm not sure patent is really an appropriate finish for this look,” she waved her hand in front of Felicity's gray pencil skirt, and blue and green polka dot blouse, “but I figured-”

“They're perfect,” Felicity breathed out as she slipped them on, her eyes closed in bliss.

“You really like them?” she opened her eyes to Thea's hopeful smile.

“You are an angel, an angel sent from couture heaven,” she threw her arms around her friend's shoulders and squeezed.

Tommy cleared his throat behind them, “Are you catching a ride with Oliver?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you'd better hurry,” he pointed out the window to where John was pulling the car around.

“Gotta run!” she snagged her briefcase off the floor by her seat. 

“I'll be at QC at four,” Tommy called after her.

“Awesome!” she yelled back, before pulling to a sudden halt. “At four?” she repeated. “I'll be at an appointment.”

“Wherever is fine,” Tommy said with a charming grin.

“Ok,” she called back into the kitchen heels clicking across the foyer, “I'll text you the address later!” 

She hustled down the stone steps and into the waiting town car. She stashed her case in the middle seat before she stretched her calves out in front of herself as she buckled in. Turning her ankles this way and that, admiring the shine on her new shoes in the morning sunlight.

The other door jerked open and Oliver dropped himself into the car, stashing his own briefcase in the middle seat with hers.

“Today at four,” she sighed out, admiring the way the passing scenery reflected off the tips of her pumps.

“What?”

“Today at four,” she said again.

“Repetition doesn't actually make that statement any clearer Felicity.”

She pulled her gaze up from her shoes and smiled at him, “Thea's at the club this afternoon at four.”

“Will Roy be there too?”

“I don't know,” she sighed, eyes locked once again on her footwear.

“Felicity,” his hand landed on her forearm, “what are you-”

“Aren't they beautiful?” She nudged a pointed toe against his pant leg.

“What, the shoes?”

“Yeah,” she exhaled, “the shoes. They're so shiny.”

“Where did you get them?” His fingers curled around her elbow, palm on the back of her arm, his thumb playing with the ruffle on the edge of her blouse's sleeve

“Thea,” she smiled again, “she's letting me borrow them.”

“You haven't really replenished your wardrobe since you moved in.”

“It's like I told Tommy, got to save those pennies for when I move.”

“Yeah,” his thumb stilled against her arm, “for when you move.”

“Oh,” she continued brightly, “Tommy's picking me up at four, so you can zoom over to Verdant in your hood suit whenever.”

“You're leaving that up to me?”

“You're the master tactician aren't you?”

“But this isn't my plan, Felicity. It's your's.”

“No,” she shook her head, “It's mine, and Tommy's and, Diggle's. And I know I've pushed you into this Oliver, to taking on a partner, and I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not.”

“So, show up at Verdant at four-ish, then improvise?”

She glanced at her cell, “You've got nine hours to figure it out.”

When the sleek town car pulled up outside Verdant, Felicity kept an eye open for Oliver, or his bike, or an arrow. _Or a mortally wounded Roy._ Her fingers playing nervously along the edge of her tablet. She startled noticeably when Tommy touched the back of her hand, “You gotta relax, Smoak.”

She smiled and let out a long exhale, “Yeah.” He gave her his own smile and slid out of the car, cane in hand, Felicity at his heels. “How does it feel to be out of the casts?”

“Amazing,” he said, opening the door for her.

“And the cane?”

“I'll probably need it forever,” he said somberly.

“Well,” she said strolling into the center of the dance floor, “I think it makes you look very dashing.”

“If he gets a monocle, and top hat he'll look just like Mr. Peanut.”

“Speedy!”

Thea clattered down the stairs to wrap Tommy up in a hug. “I'm glad you're here,” she grinned, “I'm glad you're both here. Come on,” she wrapped her fingers around Tommy's wrist. “Let's start the tour,” she said dragging him up the stairs.

Felicity kept glancing nervously at her cell, _fifteen until five_ , wondering how Oliver was doing with Roy. _I hope he's not too mad_. She thought to herself, _No, even if he is mad it's worth it. I'd rather have him mad then... any of the alternatives._

“So, who do you have in place for security?”

Thea turned from where she was stashing martini glasses on a shelf, “Umm, I was just going to rehire who was here before.”

“That's good,” Tommy nodded into his scotch, “but you'll want to have more. Probably double.”

“Really?” Felicity asked from where she was perched on a neighboring stool, coffee in hand.

“Oh, yeah,” Tommy nodded again, “the police presence in the Glades is umm... sub-optimal right now,” he finished diplomatically.

“Yeah,” Thea frowned, placing her hands on the bar in front of them, “I had thought about that. I actually feel a little terrible about it,” she continued, “there's still so much devastation, and I'm worrying about re-opening my brother's nightclub.”

“Hey,” Tommy laid his hand over hers, “business in the area that open will help other businesses. We re-open Verdant, the Stop-n-Shop gets a little boost in post reveling snack sales. The taxi cab place picks up a few more fares, and on and on. You know,” he shot Felicity a smile, “Economics 101.”

“There is, however, a charity thing Tommy was putting together, to benefit quake victims,” Felicity added her hand to Tommy and Thea's, “if you need to absolve your Rich Girl Guilt a little bit.”

“Really?” Thea asked with an arch of her brow, her smile calculating, “what were you thinking?”

“Umm...” Tommy mumbled, “I hadn't really?”

Thea turned and pulled a tablet off the counter under the massive mirror, and spun back to them mumbling to herself, and tapping at the screen, “Dinner and dancing, obviously. We'll find someone impressive to give an inspiring speech. Who's local to the Glades and made it big?”

“Colin Martins,” Tommy answered immediately, “short stop for the Rockets.”

“Perfect,” Thea smiled, still pecking away at the screen.

“Two to three per plate,” she continued

“Two to three hundred?” Felicity gasped.

Thea looked up and smiled, “Thousand, per plate depending on how close you want to sit to Mr. Martins. Invite three to four hundred, fifteen percent will decline off the top. All the local big shots obviously, also the well to do from out of town with any connection to Starling. Aim for something during the Holidays, that'll give you a couple months to throw something together. If you play your cards right, this could be the charity event of the year,” she turned and exited from behind the bar to lean on a stool next to Tommy. “For this size you'll need to have it at the Plaza. Asked for Carlo, Dad always liked him.” Her tablet beeped twice and she sent them a winning smile, “E-mailed it to you at QC, is that Ok?”

Felicity's tablet pinged, a new e-mail message on the screen, “Yeah, awesome.”

Tommy's own cell buzzed then. He pulled it out of his jacket pocket and nodded to Felicity, “You want a ride home? I've got some lawyer stuff I need to take care of. I can have Ben drive you home after he drops me off?”

“Yeah, that's sounds perfect.”

After saying their goodbyes to Thea and safely ensconced in the car, Tommy leaned back in the plush leather seat, stretching out his leg, “God, I can't wait to get back to the house.”

“I thought you had a lawyer thing?”

“Nope,” he shook his head, patting his jacket pocket over his phone, “it was all a clever ruse. Oliver talked to Roy, and now he's headed back to the mansion. Mission accomplished,” he hissed, a grimace distorting his features.

“Are you alright Tommy?”

He breathed out slowly through his nose, “Nothing a pill won't take care of,” he waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively, “or a Naughty Nurse sponge bath.”

“Dream on, Merlyn,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“Oh, I plan on it.”

It was clear on the drive back to the house that Tommy was in worse shape then he initially let on. His eyes were pinched shut and his teeth were clenched around every jolt and bump on the road. Felicity half turned into the seat back and sent a discrete text to Diggle.

“Who are you texting?” he bit out.

 _So much for discrete_. “John, I'm asking him to meet us out front with your wheelchair.”

“I don't want that Felicity.”

“When was the last time you took any of your medication?” Felicity asked gently.

“Yesterday,” he winced and dug his fingers into the leather arm rest, his knuckles going white.

“Yesterday?” Felicity tried not to shriek, honestly. “Why?”

“I don't want to take them.”

Felicity furrowed her brow, “Are you worried about becoming addicted to them, because there are pain killers that have a ver-”

“Felicity,” he hissed out, “I need to feel this.”

She placed a hand gently on his. “No one should suffer like this, Tommy.”

“Really,” he closed his eyes again, tears in his voice, “because of me a lot of people have suffered more.”

“Tommy, that's-”

“Don't placate me, please.”

She smiled at him softly, “I wasn't going to offer you hollow comfort, Tommy. I was just going to say that sounds like something Oliver would say.”

She saw his jaw work, and the corners of his mouth turn down in a frown. “Ok fine,” he said with a wince, “have the wheelchair ready.”

“He's in,” Oliver said succinctly as John pushed Tommy into the house, Felicity at their heels.

Tommy beamed a sunny smile to John, “Can we high five? Or would that be too juvenile?” John sent him a smirk and offered his palm for slapping. Felicity slid her cell out of her purse and began to hunt through her contacts. Tommy turned to offer his hand to Felicity, “What are you doing, Smoak? Don't leave me hanging.”

Felicity reached out distractedly, and brushed her fingertips across his knuckles, “I need to call someone.”

“Who?” Oliver rumbled out, suddenly within arms reach.

Felicity retreated a discrete half step, “Thea.”

Oliver advanced on her, crowding into her space, “Why?”

“So she'll know?” And in a flash, her palm was empty.

“You're not calling my sister.”

“Well not now,” she said balling her hands on her hips, “because you stole my phone.”

“No,” Oliver said leaning further into her space, “because Thea doesn't need to know.”

Felicity blinked at him once, her eye owlish and huge, “Give me the phone Oliver.”

“No.”

“Your sister has every right to know.”

“Plus, all the rest of us know,” Tommy piped up.

“Exactly,” Felicity said, not breaking eye contact with Oliver, “all the rest of us know.”

“So what?” Oliver folded his arms across his broad chest, “Everyone gets to know? What is this, elementary school?”

“It might as well be,” Felicity huffed out, “you're certainly acting like a brat.”

“A brat?” he spluttered out, “You're calling me a brat? I'm trying to protect people I care about.”

“Lying to people, that never keeps anyone safe,” Felicity said hotly. 

“What was that PSA when we were kids?” Tommy interjected, “'The More You Know!',” he waved his hand over top of himself in an arc.

Diggle nodded solemnly, “And knowing is half the battle.”

“She'll figure it out, Oliver,” Tommy said with a grin. 

“You can't know that,” he all but growled, thrusting Felicity's phone towards her. 

“I figured it out, so did Diggle, Felicity.”

“To be perfectly fair,” Felicity said, clutching her phone in her hand, “he was hiding in the back of my car.”

“It's all about spin control,” Tommy continued, “she'll figure it out. You just have to get in front of this.”

“I'm not going to spin control my sister like she's another bad spring break decision!” he turned fully towards Tommy, his back to Felicity and the foyer.

“Of course not!” Tommy shouted back, “I'm saying we have to put this in the best possible light for you!”

“And what's that Merlyn? 'I'm a murderer, but it's for a good cause'?”

Tommy flinched slightly, “I regret that everyday, Oliver. You have no idea.”

Felicity's phone chirped then, she glanced down at the screen and cleared her throat loudly, “You don't have to figure out how to tell me, I already know.”

“We know, you know, Felicity,” Oliver shouted, turning towards her, “we're trying to figure out how to tell... Thea,” he said with his forced, pleasant smile. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” she breezed past them to firmly grip the back of Tommy wheelchair, and begin propelling him down the hall. “And knock off the yelling,” she called back over her shoulder, disappearing with her charge into the corridor down to his room, “Tommy's supposed to be resting!”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I humbly dedicate this chapter to machawicket on tumblr, who fills my life with the majesty of Big Dumb Pine Trees.
> 
> If you haven't read her fics, you should.  
> If you aren't subscribing to her, you ought.

Felicity looked up from her shiny new computer table when she heard a low whistle behind her. 

“Damn, girl. You and Thea do nice work,” Diggle grinned.

Her smile was broad as she raised her coffee mug to him in salute, “Thank you. Are you here in an official capacity, or just to get your bearings?”

“Official,” he said nodding to the stairs, “delivery.”

Roy peered over the top of the box he was carrying as he landed next to Diggle on the concrete, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Felicity greeted her new friend warmly.

“So,” he said jigging the box gently as he stepped onto the concrete, “where do you want this stuff?”

She gestured absently at the back with a wave of her hand as she spun back to the monitors, “Wherever. I'm still getting the basics sorted out.”

“Your room's looking pretty barren with all your computer stuff here.”

“Really?” she turned slightly towards John, eyes still on the screens. “It should look completely barren.”

Diggle flashed her a smile, “Did you get that place you were on the list for?”

“I did!” she chirped happily, eyes roaming over the monitors, “I sign the lease and get the keys at three.”

“That seems like a lot to cram into a weekend,”

“What does?”

“Getting a new place today, then the Gala tomorrow.”

“Oh, I'm not going to that,” Felicity reached blindly for her cup and took another gulp of coffee.

“You're not?” Diggle asked with a wrinkled brow.

“Nope, I've got other plans,” she clicked twice on the big screen.

“What other plans?”

“Assembling all my furniture,” she continued brightly, “I'm getting a delivery tomorrow at four.”

“A furniture delivery?”

“Well I certainly can't fit a bed frame into my car,” Felicity said with an eye-roll.

“Does Thea know?”

“I don't think Thea wants to help me build bookcases, John. And won't she be busy getting ready?”

“That's what I mean, you're expected.”

“I'm expected to what?” she squinted at whatever she'd pulled up.

“Be there, at the Gala.”

Felicity snorted inelegantly, “I'm pretty sure that's not true.”

Diggle gripped the arms of her chair and spun her fully to him, breaking her line of sight to the computer, “No Felicity, I'm totally sure that is true.”

Felicity blinked at him, slowly, eyes huge before making a frantic grab for her purse, “Where's my phone? Oh, God, why didn't anyone tell me?”

“Didn't tell you what?” Roy asked, stepping up to the edge of the desk.

“That I'm going to this... thing!” she shouted.

“The charity thing?” Roy continued.

“Yes! I had no idea I was expected.”

“Thea told me you helped put it together.”

Felicity lifted her head from the bag in her lap, pausing in her search, “I sent some e-mails. I didn't know that garnered an invitation.” She pulled her phone from the depths of her purse and smiled triumphantly.

“Who are you calling?” John asked, levering himself off the desk edge.

“Thea.”

“You're not going to cancel on her are you?” Roy asked.

“Are you kidding me? Cancel?” she lifted the phone to her ear, “I'm making her take me shopping.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“So what's the game plan for tomorrow?” Felicity asked, loaded shopping bags banging against her legs as she strolled down the sidewalk. “I don't think I'll have enough time to sign for the furniture, get to your house, get ready, and then get to the fundraiser by seven.”

“That's easy,” Thea replied, smiling as she popped the trunk, “I'll just meet you at your place.”

Felicity hesitated, “You know I live down off Wharf now, right?”

“Yeah,” Thea said over her shoulder, lowering herself into the car.

Felicity dropped her bags next to Thea's before slamming the trunk shut, and opening the other car door, “Is that Ok for you?”

“Why wouldn't it be?” Thea asked, pulling her lipstick out of her purse.

“Ok, let me rephrase that. Will that be Ok for Oliver?”

“Oliver's not the boss of me,” Thea said with a shrug.

“That's true,” Felicity replied, settling into the seat, “but he is the boss of me.”

Thea shrugged, “I can bring Roy?”

“I'm not sure I find that reassuring.”

“Right, but the question is: Will Oliver find it reassuring?”

“He has been working with Roy for a while now,” she said mulling it over, “You're right, I'm sure it'll be fine.”

“Awesome,” Thea pulled out into Friday night traffic, “are you working for a while at Verdant, or headed back to your new place?”

Felicity smiled at her flickering reflection in the passenger window, “That has such a nice ring to it.”

“Working?”

“My place,” Felicity brought her hand to her mouth. Feeling silly at the sudden rush of emotion.

“Hey,” Thea said gently, reaching over and clasping her friend's hand, “no sad tears.”

“These aren't sad tears,” Felicity reassured her, sniffling loudly, “they are very, very happy tears.”

“Happy to be rid of us?” Thea teased.

Felicity snorted, “No, never that.”

“We'll miss you.”

“I know _you_ will.”

“No,” Thea said replacing her hand on the wheel, “we. And I mean it, too.”

“I'm sure you do,” Felicity said, her tone carefully neutral.

“He seeks you out, you know that?” Thea went on.

Felicity turned to study her friends face, eerily cast in blue from the lights in the dashboard, “You're not talking about Tommy, are you?” Thea huffed out a laugh and rolled her eyes. “Friends seek each other out, Thea,” Felicity continued.

Thea smirked, “I don't know what changed with you two,” she turned briefly towards Felicity, giving her a once over, “and I probably don't want to know.”

“Nothing changed,” Felicity said, not really believing it herself. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She'd been in the dining room with Thea finalizing the plans for the newly christened Arrow Cave, when Oliver had appeared silently behind her.

“What are you doing?” If Felicity jumped three feet in the air in surprise, Thea at least had the decency to do it with her. 

“Goodness, Oliver,” Felicity exhaled, as she pressed her hand to her hammering heart.

Thea gave him a once over, taking in his grim expression, “Where's Roy?”

“I left him at his place,” he said shiftily, eyes scanning over the blueprints.

“Is he in one piece still?”

Oliver shrugged his shoulder noncommittally, “He's sleeping it off.”

Thea grabbed her phone from off the top of the stack of files laid carefully to one side, “I'm calling him. Can you get the plans to the contractors?” she nodded to the documents as she headed for the stairs.

“Yeah, not a problem,” Felicity called after her, rolling the prints up and stuffing them into the protective cardboard tube.

“What was that?” Oliver asked.

Felicity looked at him over the rims of her glasses, “That's Thea, your sister, ensuring that you didn't in fact kill Roy, her boyfriend.”

“No,” he said with a faint smile and shake of his head, “I mean those.” He tapped his fingers on the edge of the tube.

“They're architectural plans.”

“For the club?”

“For the basement. Or, as Roy has taken to calling it, The Arrow Cave.”

His face shifted into a frown, “I don't want to call it that.”

“I think you've been out-voted,” Tommy said shuffling into the room and lowering himself into a chair.

“This isn't a democracy. There is no voting,” Oliver bit out.

“Really,” Tommy continued good naturedly, “Then why is Roy here?” Oliver drew a deep breath, his chest expanding dramatically, his shoulders squaring. “I'm not here to fight with you,” Tommy rushed on, raising his hands in a placating manner, “I'm just here to let Felicity know there's an addition to the guest list.”

“Really?” Felicity enthused pulling her phone out of her bag.

“Yes,” Tommy said nodding slowly, “our good friend, Laurel Lance.” He leveled a heavy stare at Oliver. “She got a job with the prosecutor's office and she starts mid December. I thought inviting her to the benefit was a,” he pinched his lips together obviously choosing his words carefully, “a nice welcome back for her.”

“You want her at your table?” Felicity poked at the email on her phone.

“Yeah,” Tommy sent her a grin, “if I can sit between the two of you, I'll be the happiest man in Starling.”

“Ha-ha,” Felicity said with a sarcastic eye-roll.

“I'm glad she finally called you,” Oliver's voice was low and measured.

“She didn't,” Tommy said, averting his gaze as he stood, hand firm around his cane. “You know me Oliver, I can't ever just leave well enough alone.”

“You are a bit of a Mother Hen,” Felicity told him, eyes wide in mock innocence.

“Ha-ha,” he replied echoing her sarcasm. “I'm headed to some corporate nightmare,” he turned toward the door, “tell Raisa I'll be back for dinner.”

Felicity took two steps towards him and pressed a kiss against his cheek and the blueprints into his empty hand, “Drop this off for me?”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Tommy said heading towards the front door. “Butter me up with kisses, and then get me to do your bidding.” He slid his coat on, “I'll have you know that only works most of the time.”

Felicity gave him a small wave, “Bye Tommy.” And then he was gone.

When she turned to face him, Oliver was doing a smashing impersonation of a brick wall. Huge and broad and no way around or over. “So, you're at Tommy's table then?”

Felicity scoffed, “No.”

Oliver took a half step towards her, “Where then?”

“At home, God willing I'll be napping.”

He took another step, brow furrowed, “You're staying here?”

Felicity shook her head, ponytail swinging, “Not your home, my home.”

“Your home?” Oliver echoed, nearly toe to toe with her.

“I'm supposed to be off the list by then,” she shrugged, ignoring the fluttering in her stomach.

Oliver lifted his arms slowly, almost cautiously, cupping his calloused hands around her soft shoulders. “I'll miss having you here.” His voice was gruff with honesty.

She smiled at him, eyes darting across his chest and over his shoulders, seemingly unable to meet his gaze. She swallowed, “I'll miss you too.” He curled his fingers into her blouse, and that was all the urging needed for her to crash into the soft sweater stretched across the hard planes of his chest. 

“Felicity?” he whispered, a question, a prayer.

“She says I need to move on,” she said in a shaky exhale pressing her ear against his chest, over his heart.

 _She?_ “Move on?” he whispered, one hand cupping the back of her neck, the other leaving a ghost of a caress up and down her spine. 

“From the quake, and,” she inhaled harshly, “being afraid. She says it's in the past, and I-” she gasped again, voice damp with unshed tears, “I don't know how. I don't think I can.”

“I didn't know you felt this way.” His words were gentle, but she heard the recrimination in them.

“I'm good at locking it away.”

“You can't lock it up, Felicity, you have to let go of it,” Oliver said into her hair, “all of it, it's the past.” He tightened his arms around her, turning to steel even as she crumbled, “You have to embrace life, Felicity.”

“But what if I-”

“You will,” he said his voice growing harsh, “we all have to move on.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*

“I cried on him,” Felicity said turning to Thea as they pulled up behind the club, “maybe that was it?”

“I don't know if tears would freak him out. Oliver was always pretty in touch with his feelings,” Thea said grabbing up her purse. “You know, for a frat boy.” Felicity smiled as she rounded the car to meet Thea at the trunk. “I'll take your dress back to the house with me.”

“Why?” Felicity slung her laptop bag over her arm.

“It needs to be steamed, just be completely ready when I get to your place tomorrow, I'll zip you in and we'll go.”

“Ok,” Felicity said, headed to the basement door, “I'll see you at like six then?”

“Ten to seven.”

“It starts at seven.”

“I have to be fashionably late.”

“We're hosting!”

“Fine, six thirty?”

“Deal,” Felicity said yanking open the fire door.

“Back to the grind?”

“Yeah,” she smiled, holding the door ajar with one hand, “I sort of bailed earlier, with the lease signing and the retail therapy.” She shot a look down the dim stairway, “There's still a lot to put away.”

Thea stood by the driver's door of her car, “Make sure you get some sleep, Ok?” Felicity shrugged, not meeting her friends eyes, “Tomorrow then?”

“Six thirty,” Felicity confirmed before shutting the door and clattering down the stairs. 

She stashed her briefcase, and purse under the table immediately. Followed by her heavy winter coat and mittens.

She turned to assess the chaos of a half unpacked superhero lair before just walking in to the back reasoning, _You have to start somewhere._

Three hours and a dozen boxes later Thea's borrowed shoes joined her mittens and coat. She padded barefoot back to a storage locker with a yawn. She was part way through the top layer in a box of office supplies, sharpening stones, and gun oil, when she heard the door overhead bang open, and her heart seized in her chest. “Felicity?” _Tommy._

“Down here!” she called up in the vague direction of the stairs, her voice thin and strangled.

“Hey,” he said, his smile faltering as he caught sight of her, “are you ok?”

Felicity drew a calming breath, “Yeah, it's just-” she gnawed at her lip.

“The last night you worked in here, it half caved in?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, nodding jerkily, “and when I heard the door slam like that I-”

“Hey,” Tommy said, taking her gently by the elbow, “why don't you have a seat, you look a little... worn out. I'll get you some coffee? There's a coffee machine around here somewhere? Right?”

She sent him a shaky smile, “Yeah,” she pointed at the drip machine, “it should still be half full.” 

“Half full?” he teased, “It's almost eleven.”

“You know how it is, Merlyn.” Felicity lowered herself gingerly into her chair, rolling her wrists and ankles.

“You got a cramp?” Tommy asked as he approached her, mug in one hand, cane in the other.

“No,” she took the coffee from him gratefully, “I just still get weirdly tense sometimes.”

“Can I offer you a Naughty Nurse back rub?” he said with a playful smile on his face.

Felicity took a slow sip of her coffee and groaned happily, “No reason, this is all I need.”

“Why are you still here, Felicity?” came the deep rumble from the top of the stairs. _Oliver._

Tommy flashed her a grin before, “Can't you tell Oliver? I'm fulfilling her every need.”

Oliver was down the stairs and beside them in a flash, “Felicity?” he asked again.

“I'm fine Oliver,” she said turning slightly and placing her cup on the table, “I'm just a little tired, and a little,” she waved her hand in front of herself, encompassing the basement, “I don't know.”

Oliver knelt down, positioning himself between her and Tommy, his gaze slipped between the bags under her eyes and the pinched corners of her mouth. “Have you been sleeping?”

She avoided his seeking stare, guiltily, “It's been... more difficult, since I've been back here everyday.”

He leaned in, eyes skimming over her sallow features, his hands ghosting along her trembling arms. Oliver's jaw flexed as his mouth firmed into a determined line, “You are going home.”

“Why?”

“Because you need to sleep.”

“I've been home, and it's not helping.”

“Felicity, you need to sleep.”

“I know! Oliver I've-”

Tommy cleared his throat, “What would help?”

“Drugs,” she said flatly, “probably? I don't know.”

“Are you seeing someone?” Oliver asked.

Felicity nodded, eyes slipping closed, head tipping back against the headrest of her chair, “Yeah, a shrink. She's pretty nice. She got me an appointment with an emotional trauma specialist in two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Oliver scowled.

“There's a lot of trauma to go around.”

“So, what are you going to do for the next two weeks?” Tommy prompted.

She sent him a small smile, “Not sleep, main line the coffee, buy lots of concealer.”

Oliver bent his head shaking it slightly, “This is unacceptable Felicity.”

“Don't worry,” Felicity ran her hand gently against the back of his neck under the collar of his brown leather jacket, “I won't let it effect us.” His head snapped up, eyes wide. “I mean at work,” she hurried on, pulling her hands away from the soft strands on the back of his neck and hastily into her lap, “both my jobs. I'll still be the best IT girl you've got. Not that you've got me, _got me_ \- just that-” 

She stilled when Oliver's hands clasped over her own. “Why can't you sleep?”

She heaved a gusty sigh, “Since I've been back down here so much with Thea getting everything all put together, I just-” she clenched her hands where they lie under his, “It's like it was in the beginning. I feel like I have to be 'on' all the time, high alert.”

He nodded, eyes brimming with understanding. “But you've managed so far?”

“At the house, at first, I shared a room with Tommy, and that helped. It was very-” she shook her head, “I don't know? Reassuring? To have someone nearby. Then some of the-” she swallowed, “some of it went away, the on alert feeling, because I got used to everyone, all the noises. But now that I'm back in here everyday...” 

“Well that's easy,” Tommy said with a smile, “you can spend one more night with me.” Oliver spun around, and although she couldn't see his expression, the smile on Tommy's face deepened, and his eyes began to dance. “It won't be a problem,” Tommy continued, flicking his eyes between the two of them. “You could even get under the covers this time.” His smile had transformed into a full fledged smirk, “It's winter now.”

“I guess you're not sleeping with forty-seven pillows anymore, are you?” Felicity said with a grin.

“Nope, just the usual... six or seven. And of course a beautiful lady.”

Felicity barked out a laugh as Oliver stood. “That is the worst line yet, Merlyn. Ok,” she said as she spun to reach under the other side of the desk, “just let me get my stuff together and then it's one last hurrah for the displaced at the Queen Manor.”

Felicity was at the sink rinsing out her coffee cup, trying not to overhear the heated discussion between Tommy and Oliver at the bottom of the stairs. 

_What are they squabbling about now?_ She wondered. 

The previous week it had been MarioKart. 

Then she heard Oliver hiss out “Laurel”. _Of course_ , she thought to herself nodding, _obviously_. He and Tommy had “made up” in that way you sometimes make up with family, because you know you _should_. But Felicity knew that sometimes, grudges and ill will could still linger. _It'll just take them time_.

“Oliver rode his bike here,” Tommy said starting up the stairs, “so it'll just be-”

“The three of us,” Oliver interrupted placing his palm in the small of Felicity's back, and guiding her up the stairs, “I want to leave it here, just in case I need it tomorrow.”

“That seems a little far from The Plaza.” Tommy said, as he pulled the door open.

“I need it here for... strategic reasons.” Oliver ground out, guiding Felicity through the alley to Tommy's Aston Martin.

“I'm sure you do, pal,” Tommy grinned. Keying the door lock behind them. 

“He's very good with strategy,” Felicity yawned, barely stifling her exhale behind her hand. 

Oliver helped her into the back seat before sliding into the front passenger seat next to Tommy. She tried to listen to what they were saying to each other and maybe participate in the conversation. But before too long, their low tones urged her into a much needed sleep. 

Oliver turned his head, catching a glimpse of Felicity in the flickering streetlights as they sped down the highway, out of the Glades and back to the house. Her head wobbled against the back of the seat. She was utterly boneless in her exhaustion.

“I'm glad to see your time in traction didn't diminish your lead foot at all.”

Tommy smiled, “It'll take more than that to break me down, Oliver.” Oliver swept his hand across the nape of his neck. “So, about Laurel...” Tommy pressed on.

“I meant what I said,” Oliver glanced into the back seat again, “I'm going to be honest with her if I see her.”

“ _When_ you see her,” Tommy corrected, his mouth pressing into a harsh line. “She'll be at the Gala tomorrow.”

“Did she confirm?”

“Yeah,” Tommy pressed a little firmer on the accelerator. “this morning. Did you know?” he asked nodding towards Felicity in the rear-view mirror.

“No,” Oliver said, turning back around in his seat, staring vacantly at the expanse of road in front of them. “She mentioned she was having problems putting the quake behind her, but-” he clenched his hands in his lap, “she's always such a rock. I just didn't expect it. Why?” he glanced over as Tommy eased the car onto the exit ramp, “Did you know?”

“About the not sleeping?” Tommy flicked the blinker and hung a left onto a tree lined street.

“Yeah, about the not sleeping.”

“Of course,” Tommy shifted slightly in the driver's seat, obviously seeking comfort for his leg.

“She told you.” It wasn't a question.

“Well, I am her friend,” Tommy said with a laughing grin, “And I have this trustworthy, future in politics air I've been cultivating.”

Oliver shot him a loaded look, “Who else knows?”

“I'm pretty sure Thea knows, too.”

“That's it?”

“Of course not!” Tommy scoffed, “Raisa knows,” he smiled slightly, “but that's because she knows everything.” Oliver nodded in concession. “John does, because he's picked her up from doctor's appointments after her Wednesday thing a couple of times.”

“Does everybody know?” Oliver didn't mean to sound shocked or betrayed, but here we are.

“I thought telling someone just because everyone else knows was something you disapproved of?”

“Tommy,” he growled out. 

“If you want emotional intimacy,” Tommy said evenly, rolling the car up to a stop sign, “You have to give it.”

Oliver's brow furrowed, “That sounds like something out of therapy.”

Tommy turned and cast an appraising glance over his friend, “It is something out of therapy.” 

“Are you implying something about my romantic... entanglements with women.”

“No,” Tommy said with a firm shake of his head, “I'm not implying anything.”

“Good,” Oliver bit out.

“I'm trying to flat out tell you.”

“If you think you can goad me into admitting something-” Oliver started.

“Ah,” Tommy interrupted him, “so you're admitting there is something to admit.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It's like a pre-admission, more than a rumor, less then confirmed.” Tommy laughed low and in the back of his throat, “I always wondered why she didn't figure it out.”

“Figure what out?”

“You,” Tommy said waving his hand in the air to encompass Oliver. “You're not difficult, you know? You never have been.”

Oliver scowled, “What are you talking about?”

“I can see how she'd get distracted. You're sort of weirdly majestic now, in a weathered, old, lightening-struck, pine tree sort of a way.”

“Is this more therapy stuff?”

“But you're still really dumb,” Tommy continued, seemingly oblivious to Oliver's interjections, pressing down again on the pedal, eyes on the road, “At least as dumb about women as you were in High School. It's a new, and different dumb than the Laurel dumb,” he nodded authoritatively, “but it's still dumb.”

“What on Earth are you talking about? Does your therapist talk to you like this?”

“I'm talking about,” Tommy said enunciating carefully as he pulled up the drive to Queen Manor, “your sleepless partner in the back seat,” Oliver tensed slightly, “and about you,” he went on, pulling the key out of the ignition and turning fully to his friend, “a big, dumb pine tree.”

Oliver jumped from the car, careful not to slam anything shut in his haste. He eased open the back door, unbuckling Felicity with nimble fingers before gently lifting her out of the car bridal-style. 

“Where do you think your going?” Tommy asked, getting his feet under himself, and easing his weight onto his cane.

“I'm taking Felicity to bed,” Oliver mock whispered before striding up the wide steps of the house.

Tommy huffed out a laugh, “That's the least dumb thing you've said about a girl in a long time.” 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Jeff slid into the booth next to Colton, setting the four beers in the center of the table.

“Thanks,” Aglin said, as he and Baker picked up their pints. Colton had already downed half of his in one gulp.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Baker asked, his tongue swiping at the foam on his upper lip.

Aglin cast a suspicious glance around at the other patrons of the pub. “Yeah,” he said lowly. “We should get some of our own back don't you think?”

“It won't bring them back-” Jeff started.

“Of course it won't!” Aglin hissed out, spinning his wedding band absently on his finger, “It's a tribute,” he continued. “Not a miracle.”

“You think that's really our best bet?” Colton asked, nodding at the news playing on the TV that had been bolted to the wall.

Four heads turned then to the evening report, “- for the Miracle in the Glades Gala, hosted jointly by Thomas Merlyn and the Queen Family,” the perky blonde reporter said. “Some are characterizing the event as a cheap attempt at public redemption, particularly on the part of the Queen Family. Who's matriarch, Moira Queen, is currently in Iron Heights awaiting trial for her part in the devastation nearly seven months ago. For other families, this might be the Holiday miracle they need. Back to you Susan.”

“Yeah,” Aglin said nodding, “it is.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Felicity was slow to wake, shifting around in the soft sheets. _Ugh, I fell asleep in my sweater,_ she frowned slightly, _I haven't done that since college._ She wriggled around some more, _At least I made it out of my skirt and into my sleep shorts. Wait,_ Felicity felt her heart start to pound in mounting panic, _I don't own any sleep shorts anymore._

She rolled onto her front then to better push onto her hands and escape whatever she had gotten herself into, when she felt a heavy arm curl around her waist, pulling her back against a firm chest.

“Felicity.” 

“Oliver?” she whispered to the empty predawn space in front of her, relaxing at his voice, his nearness, “You sound sleepy.”

She felt his legs tense across the scant space between them as he stretched himself slightly awake, “That's because I was asleep.”

“I'm sorry I woke you.”

He shifted then, bringing his nose into the curls at the nape of her neck, his breath gentle on her cheek, “I've gotten really good at getting back to sleep, and not stalking around the portrait gallery. You should give it a whirl.”

“How did you know I-”

“I convinced Raisa to tattle.”

“Now you know all my secrets,” she rolled under his arm bringing them nose to nose. His features clear even in the dim light. His face was mashed against the pillow, sheets low on his hips exposing the scaring on his back.

His eyes were closed, and his chuckle was deep, and warm, “That can't be true.”

“You're right, it isn't.” She nestled under his side, tugging his arm further around herself, uninhibited in her exhaustion. “Maybe I will,” she said, brushing her nose against his collar bone, “give it a whirl. Good night, Oliver,” she whispered.

She thought she felt his hand flex against the material of her sweater, “You too, Felicity.”

Oliver blinked his eyes open, at full alertness just over two hours after Felicity had initially roused him. 

He frowned as he pulled strands of blonde hair out of his mouth, pushing back slightly on his forearms, rising enough to see her face. Her breath came out in little sighs, her eye lashes, dark crescents on her pale cheeks, but she seemed... better. Here in his bed, wedged half underneath him.

Her right arm was pinned in between them bent at the elbow, her hand resting lightly against his bicep, her left arm was curled over her midsection, their legs tangled. Oliver's elbows were planted in the pillows on either side of her shoulders. 

He tried to shift himself away from her slightly, but she pressed her knee against his thigh and frowned, letting out a soft moan. Oliver froze, his jaw flexing. _I've got to move,_ he thought frantically, _because I am about to embarrass myself in a way I haven't since High School._

But even with that thought in the forefront of his brain, he couldn't seem to gather the motivation to leave her. Oliver held himself over her rigidly, trying to minimize their contact without waking her, but still being near. Felicity shifted under him then, wriggling slightly until she was directly beneath him. She kicked at the sheets still over his hips and thighs, shoving them down with her feet until she was comfortable again. She left out a dreamy half sigh, and settled back into sleep.

Oliver, for his part, was far from settled. Her maneuvering had left her head tilted gently to one side drawing into sharp relief the hollow of her throat and the beat of her pulse. Her knees were bent and parted, thighs cradling his hips. He pushed up then, straightening his arms in a halfhearted attempt to leave her easy breaths, her sweet warmth.

She frowned in dissatisfaction then, brushing her fingers along the waist band of his pajama pants, and making another low noise in the back of her throat. He stilled again, pressing his eyes closed and taking slow breaths through his nose. He recited the multiplication tables in his head in Russian, Mandarin, anything to keep his body in check, and his mind distracted. 

Oliver finally managed to will himself from her. He pulled his hips away from her a third time. Shushing her gently, his mouth at her temple as she whimpered her discontent. He tugged the blankets back over her, and slipped silently into the bathroom and turned on the shower. 

_Get a hold of yourself Queen,_ he thought with a sarcastic smile as he stepped into the spray, _get a hold of yourself._

Hours later when she woke up for real, she was alone. Felicity slipped from between the sheets and took stock of her situation. 

Car location? _Unknown, probably Verdant_. Skirt location? _Also unknown, most likely nearby_. Skirt Was Removed By? _Oh, God._

She threw herself back on the mattress and debated crawling back under the blanket and pulling the sheets over her head. But that was not to be. As Thea had just flung the door open. 

“I could have just given you a ride back your new place if you were too tired to drive,” she said striding around the bed. “That would have been a lot easier than getting you _out_ of a bra and _into_ pajama shorts.” _Well, at least that answers that._ “Also, when you do something, you don't do it by halves,” she said as she perched on the edge of the bed, “you were _out_ , like comatose, gone,” she said with a sweep of her hand.

“I'm sorry for all the trouble,” Felicity said rolling onto her back, and flinging her forearm across her eyes. “What time is it now?”

“It's just noon,” Thea stretched out beside her, digging her toes into the blankets.

“I should go,” Felicity said, not making any forward motion, despite her words.

“Why?”

“I've got to get dressed, get a ride back to the club, get my car, get to my new place, and sign for my furniture.”

“Don't sweat it.”

“Don't sweat what?”

“The furniture,” she said shiftily.

Felicity dropped her arm from her eyes, and pinned Thea with a stare, “Spill it, Queen.”

“Roy already signed for it.”

“How?”

“I might have called someone about altering their delivery schedule?”

“Might?”

“Ok,” she said with a flip of the wrist, “I totally did.”

“Did you bribe someone?” Felicity said incredulously.

“Bribe is such an ugly word,” Thea said levering herself off the bed, “I prefer to think of it as upgrading to premium service. Besides,” she said as she headed to the door, “now we can get ready together! It'll be like Senior Prom!”

“I didn't go to Prom,” Felicity said flatly.

“Well, that's because you're a nerd,” Thea replied with a barely suppressed grin, her eyes wide and sparkling.

“No,” Felicity huffed, rolling onto her side, “I was fifteen, if I had gone with some boy in my class it would have been a criminal offense.”

“I didn't go either,” Thea confessed, cracking the door, “but not for legal reasons,” she said over her shoulder, “but because high school boys are dumb.”

“Wait!” shouted Felicity at Thea's retreating back, “How did Roy get into my apartment?”

Her only answer was the echo of Thea's cackle.


	6. Chapter 6

By the time Oliver got home that evening, out of his Arrow suit and into his three piece, everyone else was gone. Diggle met him at the front door, as discrete in his black suit as the gun under his jacket.

“You should have gone with them,” Oliver said after he slid into the town car. “You didn't need to wait for me to wrap up my,” he cleared his throat, “my business meeting. I don't like the thought of Felicity and Thea out there alone.”

“They're not alone,” Diggle said, pulling onto the road, “they have Roy with them. Tommy's driving,” he added glancing into the review mirror.

“I don't find any of that reassuring.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Felicity slid up next to where Tommy was propped up against a low wall. She held a champagne flute in each hand, “How are you holding up?”

He turned towards her, his back to the crowd, and relaxed his face out of 'public smile' and into 'private grimace', leaning heavily on his cane. “By the end of this, I don't think I'll have a single body part that won't ache when it rains.”

Felicity pulled the glass out of Tommy's reach, “Should you have this?”

“I haven't taken any meds, Felicity.”

“Should you do that, instead of drink this?”

He waggled his fingers at her impatiently, “Give me the cheap and bubbly Felicity, I'm trying to look festive.”

She pressed the flute into his hand and surveyed the crowd over his shoulder. 

“How's it looking out there?” he said after a long sip.

“Wealthy,” she replied, mouth on the rim of her glass.

“Well, I suppose that's the right tone for a charity event,” he said turning on his heel. “Where's Thea?” he took another slow sip.

Felicity jerked one shoulder up, “Working the crowd.”

Tommy hummed, “And where have you been?”

“Avoiding the crowd.”

He sent her a speculative gaze out of the corner of his eyes, “Are you doing alright tonight, Felicity? Have you slept?”

She thought back to waking up entwined with Oliver, and hoped if Tommy noticed her flush he would blame the champagne. “This isn't anxiety Tommy, well not like from the fire, but Oliver is _late_ ,” she stressed the last word with an arch of her eyebrow, “and John's not sure what's holding him up.”

“John's not sure?”

She shrugged again, frowning at the dance floor, “Not sure, or not telling, I don't know.”

“That doesn't seem like John.”

“If Oliver's convinced it's the best-”

“Can John be swayed like that?”

“You know how Oliver can get,” her voice came out more frail then she thought it would. 

Tommy turned to her suddenly, “Dance with me?” He set their empty flutes on the tray of a passing waiter.

“I'm not really much of a dancer,” Felicity said hesitantly.

“I've seen you move in heels,” Tommy said with an eyebrow waggle. She smiled and lifted the hem of her frothy ball gown. “Panda flats,” Tommy said the words as though they pained him.

Felicity gestured at the cane in his hand, “Are you sure you wa-”

“Shuffle and sway with me?” he interrupted with a grin.

She returned his smile, “You've got it.”

Tommy propped his cane on a pillar at the edge of the dance floor before taking Felicity into his arms. One hand gently clasping hers, the other on the skin of her back where her dress dipped low. “You know,” he started conversationally, “I never would have figured high in the front, low in the back would have been a good look on a woman,” he said as her spun her in a slow circle.

“Really?” she said teasingly, “Necklines, _and_ shoes, I had no idea you were so interested in women's fashion.”

“Oh, I totally am,” he said, eyes twinkling, “you have no idea how hemlines effect the outcome of a successful broom closet quickie.”

Felicity snorted inelegantly as Tommy spun her again, “I can't believe you! You are so scandalous, To-”

“Tommy?” a feminine voice behind her asked tentatively before clearing her throat.

Tommy's hand clenched against Felicity's back as he glanced over her shoulder, his eyes going wide, “Laurel?” he sounded breathless.

Felicity froze, stumbling slightly even in her flats. Before she straightened herself and stepped to the side, “Why don't you cut in?” she said to the brunette, with a smile. “I'm going to find Thea and make some rounds?” she said to Tommy with an arched brow.

“Yeah,” Tommy said, as he nodded absently and pulled Laurel into his grasp, “that sounds great.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

By the time Oliver had made it to the Plaza, and arranged everything to his liking, the event was in full swing. 

He jogged through the parking garage and up the fire stairs to the ballroom level. Pushing through the emergency doors and down several service hallways, past a number of smaller conference rooms, until he made it in through a set of double doors and into the main area. 

Oliver snagged a champagne flute from a passing waiter and tried to blend in. He spotted Thea across the grand space chatting with their mother's banker and his wife when he felt a hand on his forearm bringing him to a sudden halt. 

“Ollie?” _Laurel_.

He gave her a careful smile, “I'm glad you came. Tommy will be-”

“Where is Tommy?” she asked absently, her eyes scanning the crowd.

“What's so urgent?” his gaze flicked over the crowd too.

“Nothing's urgent,” she said biting her lip. “It's just time, Ollie.” Laurel folded her arms across her midsection, eyes still on the crowd, “I'm done with waiting, and I'm done with the past. It's time for action.”

“Time?” he inquired, voice level.

“Time for me and Tommy. The time of me and you,” she shook her head looking at the floor, “that time is done.” She lifted her eyes to his, “I hope you'll be Ok? I know this is probably really sudden, Ollie, but I've been thinking a lot about my future, and you and I need to close this door forever,” she nodded emphatically over her words, gesturing between the two of them.

“The dance floor,” Oliver said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Laurel's mouth dropped open in disgust, “Are you seriously asking me to dance?”

“No,” Oliver said with a slow shake of his head, smile growing broader, “Tommy's on the dance floor.”

Her mouth snapped shut as she started around the pillar, “Of course, thanks Ollie.”

He saw Felicity and Tommy part, the beading on the front of her dress almost as compelling as the pale expanse of her bare back. Oliver tipped his face to the ceiling, fingers flexing around the stem of the champagne flute, exhaling long and slow through his nose. He felt finger's then, small and soft on his wrist, over his pulse. _Felicity_.

“You're late.” _Has her voice always been that musical?_

He rolled his wrist to tangle their fingers together, “I think I'm still well within the bounds of fashionable, and not scandalous.” 

He saw Felicity biting down on the corners of her mouth, holding back a laugh. He arched an eye brow at her and she snorted, “Just something Tommy said,” she shook her head ruefully, as he set his flute down on a nearby banquet table, “about hemlines and closets.” Oliver closed his eyes and bit back a groan. If there was a collision of images Oliver didn't need, it was Felicity and Coat Closet Shenanigans. “Are you feeling alright?” Felicity asked, “You're looking a little pinched.” She ran the hand he wasn't holding along his cheek.

“I'm fine, Felicity,” he said, grasping her fingers in his, their arms swinging between them. She tilted her head to the side, considering. “Really,” he said tugging her further into his space, “it's totally fine.” 

And then, all of a sudden, it wasn't. 

~*~*~*~*~

All Felicity knew was one minute she was holding Oliver's hands and the next she was pressed between a pillar and his powerful body. “Oliver? What on-” He pressed his palm over her mouth, surveying the chaos that had erupted around them. She thought briefly (and rebelliously) about licking him, but she reigned that in when she saw the subtle shift in him that took him from Oliver Queen: Irascible Playboy to The Hood: Deadly Vigilante. 

He brought his mouth close to her ear, eyes still sweeping the unraveling scene around them. “There are men in black hoods, four of them.” She held her breath and nodded. “They all have guns. Can you see security?” She shook her head in swift denial. He swallowed heavily, grip tightening minutely on her upper arm. “They have Thea. Do you have your cell?” She nodded, “You're phone has a tracker, I need you to get it to her. And then you need to run. Do you understand me?” he'd lowered his gaze, his eyes boring into her's. “I need to protect the people I love, Felicity.” He turned his head slightly, his lips ghosting over her cheek, “I need you to run.”

Felicity nodded slightly, her heart beating a terrified rhythm behind her rib cage. And then he was gone.

She peaked out from behind the pillar to see Thea's hands and feet duct taped, more tape across her mouth, up on the dais. Man number one had a gun. And while it wasn't trained on her friend, it was close enough to make her breath come in short. Man two was in the middle of his Bad Guy Monologue. Three and four were patrolling the crowded dance floor, sweeping their rifles overhead in wide arcs, sending one guest in a faint to the floor.

Felicity tucked her tiny clutch into her dress' side pocket and began her slow crawl around the perimeter of the room. 

“Our families,” Guy Two said, “the people we love, they're dead. And what do you do? You have a party? A ball?” Felicity heard the heavy stomping of his boots as he made his way across the dance floor from where she was creeping across a doorway. “A charity? A one time payment? Do you think that's fair? We lost everything we love. And you will too.”

She was working her way behind a row of banquet tables, when there was suddenly a scuffle from the far edge of the dance floor. “No wait, stop!” _Tommy_. She sat back on her heels and tried to regulate her breathing, her heart beat, the fine trembling of her fingers.

“... and here we have another daughter of Starling's elite, look how she was saved!” A woman's frantic gasp echoed through the space, as Felicity renewed her slow progress towards Thea. “She's here, to drink and revel at this,” she saw the crowd part as he dragged the woman up to the dais, “this tribute. But this isn't a tribute,” Felicity heard a dull thud as the woman was dropped on the stage, followed by the high whine of duct tape being unraveled, “not really. But it's about to be.”

Felicity eased her way around a potted palm when she felt a gloved hand clamp down on her shoulder and pull her to standing. “Hands up little girl.” Her hands flew to shoulder height, her breath caught in her throat. “What do you have here?” he sneered, lowering his gun to grab the phone from where it was clutched in her hand, “Oh, I bet you feel awfully smart, don't you darlin'?”

Felicity struck out at the man as she was dragged up to the stage, gouging at his mask with her nails, her arm flailing, getting in a swift kick to his knee, “This one's a fighter,” the man grunted out before she was thrown down unceremoniously behind the podium, knocking the wind out of her. 

When she opened her eyes she was between Thea and, “Laurel?” she whispered. Laurel's eyes swam with tears as tape was slapped across her mouth. Felicity's next thought was _Ow! What pinched me on the neck?_ It was her last thought for a while. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Oliver bolted from the ballroom, rattled down the metal service stairs, and back into the parking garage. He sprinted across the street, hoisted himself onto the fire escape of the building next door and sprinted up the stairs to the litter strewn roof.

“Well, you were right,” Diggle said, lowering his binoculars. “I never would have pegged that guy from McMennamen's Pub as a reliable source, but what do I know?”

“They have Thea,” Oliver ground out.

“You knew that was a possibility,” Diggle replied lifting the binoculars back to his eyes. “And Roy?”

“He's in position.”

“Felicity's still in there.”

“I know,” Oliver paced the five feet behind Diggle, kicking the same can on every pass.

“Did you get that tracker to Thea?”

“No time, Felicity's getting her cell tracker to Thea instead.”

“Do you want to call this off? We can end this right now.”

Oliver placed his hands on his hips and huffed out a breath, “I want this to be over with.”

“I still can't believe you got Felicity and Thea to go along with this, man.” Oliver cleared his throat guiltily, his eyes scanning the street below. “Oh God,” Diggle whispered.

“What is it?” Oliver was at his side in a blink.

“They've got Laurel,” Diggle was keeping his voice artificially flat and even.

“Tommy?”

“He's pissed, but uninjured.”

“Good, so far so good.”

Diggle's head snapped around, “Really?”

“We know they're not going to kill anyone, it's a kidnapping for ransom. We can do this, John. They'll be fine.”

“That's pretty cold Oliver,” Diggle said once more taking stock of the situation.

“I need to know if they're working with anyone else, Digg. And the only way to know is to follow them. Then we can put this behind us.”

“Well in that case,” John went on in a conversational sort of way, “you'll be thrilled to know they've got kidnappee number three and are headed towards Roy.” 

Oliver bounced a little on the balls of his feet, ready to get Felicity, and put his plan in motion.

John turned on his comm unit, “They're headed to you Roy.” He nodded absently at the ground, “Yeah still the four of them.” Oliver scuffed his shoes against the gravel of the roof. “No causalities,Thea and Laurel Lance, can you believe it? Oh, and Felicity. Be careful with her, she's unconscious. No, no injury, they injected her with something.” Another nod, “She was struggling. So, they might have more sedatives on them.” John clicked his comm unit off, and stood slowly, pocketing the binoculars. “Are you ready to share Phase Two with the rest of us, Oliver?” he said, turning, “Oliver?” But the roof was empty. 

Oliver wouldn't ever remember getting down off that roof. He wouldn't remember crossing the street. But he would always remember the blind panic, the breathless rage. Oliver was running flat out around the corner and crashed head first into Roy as he bolted out of the parking garage, frantic, the scream of police sirens in the distance.

“Where's your bike?” Roy shouted, “It's supposed to be here.”

“It's at Verdant. Did you get a tracker planted?”

“Yeah but that won't fucking matter! We need your bike!”

“Why?”

“They didn't leave in any of the cars they came in.”

Oliver went completely still, “What are you saying?”

“There was a van,” Roy gestured angrily at the service exit, “a delivery one, it pulled up and they all got in.”

Oliver turned his head frantically, “Which way did they go?”

“They headed East down Sherman.”

“I need my bike,” Oliver said, his panic climbing.

“That's what I said!”

Oliver started down a row of parked cars, his head turning frantically, eyes sweeping over the neat rows of vehicles. Diggle emerged from the valet entrance, “We've got to get going, Mr Queen.”

“Down Sherman I know,” Oliver said distractedly, “I'm looking for a sedan to hotw-”

“No,” John said with a shake of his head, “back inside. Lance wants to talk to you.”

“Keep him away,” Oliver growled out kneeling next to the car he decided he was going to boost.

“I don't think that'll be-”

“I don't have time for this, John,” Oliver interrupted, “they hav-”

“You better figure out how to make time, Queen.” Lance swaggered up to where they had clustered around Oliver, crouching on the dirty cement, his suit filthy. “Because I want answers, and I'm going to get them.”

Detective Lance and two Uniforms hustled them up the sweeping staircase and back into the Grand Ballroom. Uniform One and Two pulled Roy and Diggle into a smaller ballroom to be interviewed, while Detective Lance lead Oliver to a conference room on a different floor.

“Detective,” Oliver said as they exited the elevator, and started to the conference room where 'witnesses of interest' were being interviewed, “I understand you have procedures you have to follow, but I have to get back out there, they have my sister.”

“Yeah?” Lance said with an arch of his brow, “They've got my daughter.”

“And they might want a ransom,” Oliver said keeping his voice even as they drew level with the back of the crowd.

“We're monitoring the calls in and out of the hotel.”

“But, this might be about me,” Oliver said, fishing for any reason for Lance to let him go. “They might want to call me, personally. Or Tommy.”

“There's a lot of wealthy people in this room Oliver. You can't know it's just about the two of you.”

Oliver turned slightly in to Lance then, “Laurel has had,” he pursed his lips, “romantic entanglements in the past with both Tommy and me. Thea is my sister.”

“I'm well aware of your past entanglements Queen. But why would they take Ms. Smoak too? I know she works for you, but she's from out of town, she might be connected in someway to-”

“She's been staying at my house,” Oliver said lowly.

“What?” Quentin's face twisted in disbelief, “Are you messing with that girl? She's had a rough time of it, you kn-”

“No,” Oliver said, raising his hands, gut churning, “her building got destroyed in the Undertaking, she was living in her car. Felicity's a friend of Thea's-” his hands clenched at all that he was having to omit. “She just needed a place.”

“So, you think these clowns were watching your house?”

“It's a possibility.”

“Don't you have security?”

“Yes,” Oliver said, lowering his head slightly, “but everything's been in... flux.”

“Yeah,” Detective Lance replied, snapping his note book shut, “flux. I'll send a car out by your place just in case.”

“How long is this going to be?” Oliver asked nodding to the tables full of police officers giving interviews, the line of witnesses wrapping the room, his panic barely in check.

“As long as it takes. Here,” Lance said, gesturing to another police officer, “I'll have Sergeant Chavez wait with you.”

“Oh no, Detective, I don't think that'll be-”

“I do, Queen.”

Oliver smiled at the Sergeant through gritted teeth.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Ok,” Diggle said under his breath, “we're in the lowest priority line, because we weren't actually in the hotel.” Roy nodded, “You can tell the police about seeing the delivery van, because they actually need to know that. Other than that, you're new to the security team. You don't know a thing.”

“Ok,” Roy nodded again, “got it. But just so you know,” he said turning back to John as he stepped up one place in the massive line, “I actually do know how to lie to the cops.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Oliver was half way through the grueling line, Chavez ever present at his side, when he got a text from Tommy.

TM: Got a ride with your security team. Left my car for you. Key with the valet.

Oliver read the text twice and huffed out a sigh. Security Team, oh my God. 

“Mr. Queen?” prompted the Sergeant next to him

“Would it be possible for me to use the men's room?” he said nodding to the door, “Ma'am,” he added hastily.

She sent him a grimace trying to be a smile, “I guess. If you'll follow me, Mr. Queen.”

She cracked open the bathroom door, “Hello?” she called. When there was no answer, she nodded her head at him, “Go right ahead.”

He gave her a nod and a tight smile. 

Ten minutes went by, then fifteen. When Sergeant Chavez finally opened the door again, Oliver was gone, the window was open, and a befuddled pigeon was cooing in the handicapped toilet stall.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“... good God, I don't know!” Diggle was shouting, “I'm not 'computer guy', Ok!”

“Well, who the Hell _would_ know!” Tommy yelled from where he was sitting in Felicity's chair, the rest of them gathered around him. 

“Felicity would know,” Roy offered, stepping out of the range of Tommy's swinging cane. 

“Well that's not exactly an option right now. Is it Rocket Boy?”

“Rocket Boy? What kind of i-”

“Stop,” Oliver said landing on the concrete. “What do we know?”

“The plates on the van,” Diggle said his mouth a firm line, “plus the two cars they came in.”

“So, run them,” Oliver ground out.

“Gee, really?” Tommy said with a sarcastic eye-roll, “We never would have thought of that. Thank God you're here, Queen, to point us in the right direction.”

“We can't,” John added, more helpfully.

“Why not?” Oliver started to pace.

“We don't know how. None of us are that computer savvy.”

“What else do we have?” Oliver felt the wall he'd carefully built around his anger starting to crack.

“We have the name of that guy you talked to at McMenamen's today.” Roy supplied, stepping further afield of Tommy's agitated movements.

“And?”

“None of us are court officers, so we don't have any access to the court records database.” Tommy said as he swung the heavy silver head of his cane towards the computer tower, “Also, we can't hack in.”

“This is the main road through the Glades,” Oliver tried again, searching for some solution, any solution. “Maybe they passed by here? Can't we check our own fucking security cameras?” he clenched his hands to control their trembling.

“No one knows the password but Thea.” Roy offered, his voice low, from where he had retreated to the far side of the med table.

Oliver tipped his head back, jaw flexing, the tendons of his neck straining, “What about Felicity's tracker?”

“Crushed.”

“What do you mean, crushed?”

“The guy who snatched her up, crushed her phone under his boot. Saw it through the binoculars.”

“We need to get them back,” Oliver could feel his heart racing, his control slipping.

“Well,” Tommy said grimly, “it looks like to get them back, we need them here.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Felicity blinked awake, achy, cold, and tired. _Where are my glasses?_

“Felicity?”

“Thea?” she grimaced. Her voice sounded like she had swallowed a tumbler full of gin, mixed razor blades, and crushed glass.

She felt hands on her then, one set behind her head slipping her glasses back on her face, “Thanks Thea,” she said sitting up gingerly, adjusting them on her nose.

Laurel's hands swept along her legs and torso, “Does anything hurt?” her eyes full of concern.

“No,” Felicity coughed, and re-positioned herself a little more. “No, I'm fine.”

“We were afraid you wouldn't wake up,” Thea whispered, curling against her, voice full of tears.

She placed her arm firmly around the shoulder of her friend, giving her a squeeze. To Laurel she said, “What happened?”

Laurel sat back on her heels and ran a hand through her tangled curls. “They put us in the back of a van, bags over our heads. We drove for,” she shrugged huffing out a breath, “I don't know, a while? Then they dragged us in here and taped us to the shelves.”

Thea nodded, “They came back a while later and took the bags off.”

Felicity looked around the dim space, lit by a single caged light bulb dangling from the ceiling barely illuminating what appeared to be an empty storage room. “Have they been back?”

Thea shrugged one dirt-smudged shoulder, “I heard voices after that. Saw some shadows under the door,” She shook her head then, “but no.”

“How did you get free?” Felicity's mouth hung open in disbelief.

Thea sniffed and lifted her face from where it had been turned into Felicity's shoulder, “Laurel got free.”

She nodded, “There was an exposed screw on my shelf, where a bracket had broken, I used it to cut the tape off. Then I got Thea loose, then you.”

Felicity looked down at the angry red marks ringing her wrists, “Well, I can't say I'm mad I slept through that. So, what now?” she asked looking between their faces.

“The door's obviously out,” Thea said nodding.

“Cell phones?” Felicity asked hopefully.

“Crushed.” Thea said with a sigh. 

“Any windows?” Felicity asked peering around, trying to get a better look at the space. Swallowing down the bile rising in her throat at, once again, being trapped in an airless concrete space.

“There's a vent,” Laurel nodded towards the back wall, “But the cover is screwed down.”

“So what do we have?” Felicity could feel her shoulders starting to slump.

Laurel shrugged helplessly, “We're not really sure.”

Felicity reached into the pocket of her dress tentatively, her fingertips brushing against the beading of her clutch. She smiled broadly and pulled it into her lap. She snapped the clutch open with a deft snap of her fingers and upended the contents of the bag onto the cement next to her. “Two dimes,” Thea said flicking through the little pile, “a glasses repair kit, and a gym membership card.”

Laurel leaned forward, “Plus little bits of purse fluff.”

Felicity slid everything back into the bag and pulled herself to her feet, holding onto the rusty shelving unit for balance. “Ok,” she shook her head to clear it, “take me to the vent.”

It was nearly to the ceiling, screwed into concrete, and as thoroughly rusted as the shelves had been. “Ok,” Felicity nodded more to herself than anyone else, “ok, we can work with this.” She groped her way along the wall back to where she had woken, nodding slightly, “Yeah, Ok.” She leaned into the shelf she'd been taped too, and frowned, “Are all these bolted to the floor?”

“Yeah,” Thea said slumping back against the wall, “all of them.”

Felicity nodded once. _Slight setback._ She cast an appraising glance at Laurel, “What's your core strength like?”

“Just a little higher,” Thea whispered. Felicity and Laurel adjusted their stances, plus their grip on Thea's legs, trying to get her just a little further up the wall.

“Thank God you were a cheerleader,” Felicity grit out, Thea's toes digging into the muscles of her thigh.

Laurel gave a small chuckle, “I though it would look good on college applications, I never thought it would ever come in handy. Using a dime edge as a screwdriver though?” She went on, “That's handy.”

“Boys and Girls Club,” Felicity offered through gritted teeth, “super good with the life skills, or I guess if you want to start a career in Breaking and Entering.”

Felicity craned her neck back to see Thea's finger's tangling in the mesh of the grate. She gave one firm tug, then another, then the vent cover popped loose. Thea pushed slightly off the wall and dangled the grate over Felicity's head. “Laurel, Laurel,” Felicity panted, her hand tightening on her friends ankle, “Not me.” Thea's hand came down to steady herself, tangling her fingers in Felicity's curls, dropping the grate down to Laurel. Felicity blew a stray lock of hair out of her face and grimaced, “Can you see into the vent?”

“Yeah,” Thea's voice was echo-y and hollow-sounding, “It's concrete, and the other end is just an opening, no grates or anything.”

“Oh, thank god,” Felicity whispered, “We're gonna boost you as high as we can. Are you going to be able to-”

“I got this, Smoak,” Thea sent her a cocky smile.

“On three,” Laurel said adjusting her stance once more, “one... two... three...”

Thea lifted one bare foot to Laurel's shoulder and then pushed off into the vent. Laurel turned then to face the wall, placing her hands under Thea's foot for an additional boost. Her hips and legs disappeared into the void above their heads. Seconds later her dirt-streaked face emerged, grinning. “Who's next?”

Felicity turned to survey the space, picking up the duct tape scraps and Thea's discarded shoes, tucking them into her pockets. She passed the vent cover back up to Thea, “Hang onto this, ok?” Thea nodded and placed it behind her in the tunnel.

“Are you ready?” Laurel asked.

Felicity patted her pockets, nodding to herself from the far side of the room, “Yeah.”

“Ok,” Laurel braced her back against the wall under the vent opening, slinging her hands in front of herself like a stirrup. “You step here,” she arched her brow and wiggled her hands, “I'll boost you to Thea. She'll catch your arms. I'll have to let you go, but I'll get my hands under your feet and push you the rest of the way. Ok?”

“Ok.”

Felicity took one deep breath, locked eyes with Laurel and ran. She pushed off the step Laurel had made with her fingers, and for a moment she was weightless. She let out an undignified “Ooof” as her chest collided with the concrete wall, her hands scrabbling for purchase in the tunnel. Thea grabbed her flailing arms, and held firm. She felt Laurel readjust under her and between them they pushed/pulled Felicity into the vent.

Felicity turned to catch a glimpse of Laurel retreating to the far side of the room on bare feet. “Shoes,” Felicity said waggling her fingers. Laurel tossed her red pumps up one at a time, Felicity catching them easily. 

“Do you need us to help?” Thea asked.

Laurel shook her head, “Nope, I got this.”

Thea and Felicity backed down the concrete tunnel. They heard the rapid slapping of her feet against the floor, and then she was there, crouched next to them in the tunnel.

“What now?” Thea asked, turning her head between the two other women.

Felicity wriggled between Laurel and the wall, picking up the grate with her fingertips, pushing it back out into the room, and then slotting it back into the frame. “Can you get the tape out of my pockets?” she asked Laurel.

“You're taping the grate back into place?” Laurel asked. “Why?”

“There'll be no trace of us,” Felicity answered, fingers flexing the vent, “everything as it was, but we're gone.” She shrugged, “It might buy us some time.”

“Time to what?” Thea asked, the panic obvious in her voice.

Laurel fished around in Felicity's pockets for the tape pieces, “For us to get out, Speedy.”

“I thought you said hostage situations usually ended ok for the victims?”

“The longer the situation goes on, and the more hostages there are, the worse it usually ends up,” Laurel said placing the last piece on the edge of the vent cover, “especially with multiple victims. And I don't know about you guys, but I don't want to wait around.”

“How long?” Felicity asked, worry in her eyes, “I was unconscious for a lot of it.”

“Two, maybe three hours,” Laurel answered matter-of-factly.

Felicity ran her hand once more over the tape. “Let's go.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“How long are you going to let Merlyn stew in his guilt before you call and demand a payment?” Jeff asked.

Aglin glanced up at the clock hanging off the concrete wall in the empty control room, “I think I'll call at two.”

“Another hour?” Baker asked, getting nervous.

“You got to get the timing right on these things,” Aglin said, “four hours altogether ought to put him in a,” he laughed slightly, “a _giving_ mood.”

“Should we go back and check on them?” Baker asked, tilting his head at the staircase.

“Why?” Aglin sneered, “What are a bunch of little society princesses going to do? Knock the steel reinforced door down? Pull machine guns out of their tiny handbags?”

“You don't know _what_ they could do,” Colton insisted.

“We don't even know who they _are_ ,” Jeff sighed as he lowered himself into the other chair.

“I know exactly what they are,” Aglin said kicking his heels up on the control panel, “payday.”


	7. Chapter 7

Oliver stalked to his weapons case and started gathering his arrows, testing the tension in his bow, the tension across his back.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Tommy said rolling to his feet, “where are you saddling up to ride off to, cowboy?”

“The only thing we know for sure is that guy at the Pub knew there was going to be a kidnapping. I'm going to go find him.”

“Oliver,” Diggle said, “you talked to that guy at five this afternoon, it's past midnight now.”

“So?” Oliver said with a shrug.

“Don't you think he might have left between then and now?”

“If he's the kind of guy who'd be at a bar at five, he's probably going to be there until it closes,” Roy said, reclining against the medical table.

Oliver tilted his head at John, eyebrow cocked as he shrugged into his jacket.

John threw his arms in the air, shaking his head, “Alright.”

“And what are you planning on doing when you get there?” Tommy asked, advancing on his friend.

“I don't know,” Oliver struggled to keep his voice low and even.

“If they start-” Tommy cleared his throat, eyes wet, “if they start eliminating host-”

“They won't,” Oliver growled out.

“You can't know that,” Tommy said with a head shake. “Maybe you should call Lance? He has more-”

“No,” Oliver said checking his quiver.

“You can't mean to-”

“I can, and I do.”

“But the police can-”

“They can't,” Oliver said glancing briefly at the stricken face of his friend, “they aren't. There haven't been any police in the Glades for months. There's no way they can handle this.” Oliver's phone chirped twice, ending the conversation.

“Who is it?” Digg asked as Oliver frowned at his phone.

“Unknown number.”

“Could be the kidnappers,” Roy supplied.

Oliver nodded, putting the phone to his ear, “Oliver Queen.”

“What the fuck are you playing at Queen!” Detective Lance shouted through the phone. Oliver flinched away from the cell, rubbing his forehead, his brows pinched together.

“I'm not playing at anything Detective.”

“So why aren't you at your house?”

“I'm sorry?”

“You should be sorry! I've got a whole team waiting at your gate, ready to set up phone taps for when those bastards call you. But you're not home are you? Where the Hell are you Queen?”

“I'm-” Oliver stuttered out, “I'm at the club.”

“Oh, that's just fucking great,” Lance said sarcastically. “My daughter, the only one I have left thank you very much, has been kidnapped from _your_ benefit and what are _you_ doing? You're partying it up. You're a real class act, Queen.”

Oliver ground his teeth together, “I'm headed home, right now.”

“Finally! Good God, is that what it takes to get you moving? Jesus!” Then the line clicked to silence.

“You're headed home?” Tommy shouted, on the edge of panic, “Why are you headed home?”

“Lance thinks they'll call me for hostage demands,” Oliver said as he slid his phone into his pocket.

“I thought you said this wasn't personal? They were just snatching up anybody,” Roy pulled himself up to his full height.

“Yeah,” Oliver yanked off his green leather jacket leaving it in a heap on his quiver. He started up the stairs, suit trousers ruined from the floor of the parking garage, dress shirt half untucked, tie discarded.

Tommy drew a breath, face pinched, “Well then, why would th-”

“Because I told Lance it was a possibility,” Oliver thundered from the top of the stairs.

“Why?” Tommy's brow furrowed in disbelief, anger.

“Because I was trying to get out of the hotel Tommy, because I was trying to help.” Tommy opened his mouth to respond, but his phone started vibrating in his pocket. “It's probably Lance.”

“Did you get me mixed up in something?”

“I might have,” Oliver said jerking the door open with more force than strictly necessary.

“Jesus Christ,” Tommy bit out as he headed to the stairs, cane in hand, “the more things change...” He snapped the phone to his ear, “Yeah. I got hung up getting out of the city. I'm on my way, Detective.”

And then they were gone.

“So what do we do?” Roy asked from where he was once again slumped against the med table.

John gave him a critical once over. “We'll have to roll the legs up.”

“What?”

“On the suit, but it should fit you well enough.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

While the tunnel wasn't terribly long, their journey down it was extremely slow. 

Thea pulled to a halt again, rubbing at her palms, “This is horrible.”

Laurel huffed out a laugh, “Is it terrible I'd rather crawl on hands and knees down an unfinished concrete tunnel than do burpees?”

“No,” Thea said with a shake of her head, and a smile “that seems totally rational.” She glanced up to take in Felicity's pinched smile, “Are you Ok?”

Felicity nodded, “Yeah, but I'll be better when we get out of this tunnel.” 

Then their slow progress began again.

“Are you claustrophobic, Felicity?” Laurel asked.

“No,” Felicity said firmly with a shake of her head, “but I'm still dealing with some,” she took a deep breath, “with some quake stuff.”

“Oh,” Laurel said sympathetically, turning around to see her, “were you in the Glades when it happened?”

“Yeah,” Felicity sat back on her haunches to roll her wrists, “I was at work, at Verdant.”

Laurel's brow furrowed, “I thought you worked for QC?” she turned and started again down the tunnel.

“She does,” Thea chirped, “she also works for Oliver's side project-” Thea stopped short when Felicity turned to give her a firm look with a short shake of her head.

“I was helping install a wireless security system,” Felicity hastily added.

“I'm not sure that's really fair,” Laurel said, nearly to the edge of the tunnel, “the club isn't exactly a side project.”

“You're right, Oliver spends too much time there for it to be a side anything,” Felicity could hear the smirk in Thea's voice. 

“True enough,” Laurel said as she sat up at the tunnel's edge, legs swinging over the side, and then she jumped.

“Laurel!” Felicity shouted out.

Laurel was smirking when her head popped back into view, “You're only about five feet up. Come on Felicity,” she said, beckoning to them, “I'll give you a hand.” 

She drew to the edge of the tunnel and fished in her pockets for Laurel's pumps. “Here,” she said passing the shoes down, “I don't know if raw concrete is going to be any better then fancy shoes, but at least this way you get a choice.” Felicity placed one hand against Laurel's palm, and braced the other on the tunnel's edge and pushed off. 

She stepped away from the vent to survey where they were now. “Ok, more cage lights,” she said while turning in a slow circle, “and more concrete, so even if we had phones, we probably couldn't get a signal anyway.” Felicity heard Thea land behind her, and dutifully passed over her stilettos.

“What's that weird noise?” Thea asked, standing.

Felicity drew a breath and held it, “It sounds like, screaming, like faraway, crowd screaming?”

“Ok,” Laurel said, “What's heavy duty concrete, and a lot of screaming?”

“The baseball stadium?” Thea offered.

“That's seems too public,” Felicity said with a shake of her head, “for holding captives.”

“And if it was the baseball stadium,” Laurel said tilting her ear to the wall, “I don't think that storage room would be that empty.”

“Or that rusty,” Thea said thoughtfully, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Which way?” Felicity said, eager to start moving.

“You got someplace to be?” Thea teased.

“Yeah, anyplace but this tunnel.”

Thea slung a supportive arm around her shoulder, “Are you really going to be Ok?”

“Of course,” she said forcing a smile, nodding jerkily.

Thea turned to face her, “Really?”

“No,” Felicity answered eyes beginning to fill with tears, “but that's not really an option right now. Is it?”

“This way,” Laurel said heading down the corridor, decision made, “seems as good a choice as any.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

John had to laugh, “You look like a little boy in his daddy's clothes.”

“Yeah?” Roy said irritatedly, shoving the hood back as best he could with his fingers covered by the green leather sleeves. “This wasn't my great idea ok? You could wear the suit.”

“No thanks,” John said with another laugh and a shake of his head, “I've done my time in that thing. It feels like wearing my Aunt Margret's couch.”

“Smells like it too,” Roy said, dourly picking up the bow.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Eugene Baumgartner was a simple man with simple beliefs. He believed in God, and country, and brotherhood. He also believed that he'd come out of Korea on both feet for a damn good reason. 

So, when he'd survived his harrowing encounter with the hooded man in the alley behind McMenamen's, he'd counted it for the victory it was. And in celebration of that victory, he'd marched himself away from the stink of his own vomit and right back into the Pub. 

But not even being on the ground under heavy fire could have prepared him for his second, and distinctly less sober, meeting with the vigilante. 

“Dinna we 'lready do this?” he slurred, leaning heavily against the brick of the alleyway.

“I need names now,” the man growled at him.

“Who's?”

“The men who plotted the kidnapping.”

“Brothers in Arms they are,” he said nodding sagely.

The man held his hand to his ear briefly, and then, “What's their rank?”

“Who's?” he furrowed his brow, swaying slightly under the weight of years and Jim Beam.

“Your Brothers in Arms?”

“Oh,” he hiccuped and shook his head, “lot'sa names, lot'sa ranks, lot'sa years.”

“The one's you see here.”

“Deveau,” he said pursing his lips, “Marine, good soldier.” 

“Anyone else?”

“Aglin, but he's a loud mouth. Said he was gonna get a trisb-,” he frowned, “a trisbu-” he shook his head.

“A tribute?” the man asked.

“Yeah,” Eugene nodded. “That.” He closed his eyes, willing the swirling away, and the liquor to stay down. And when he opened them again, the man was gone.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Mr. Oliver,” Raisa said gently resting her hand on his arm. “The Mr. Police Man, he says he is done, they are getting ready to leave now.”

Oliver flicked his eyes to the clock in his father's dim study. _Just past two_. “Did a call come?”

“Yes,” Raisa said standing, and backing up to the door. “To Mr. Tommy's house.”

“Tommy's?” he repeated, his voice far away, clearly surprised.

“Are you feeling alright, my dear?” she asked, using the endearment of his childhood.

He nodded twice, before shaking his head, “No,” he whispered, “no, I'm not.” He blinked at her once, slowly, his eyes glassy, his pupils wide.

“Oliver,” Raisa shuffled back to him, “my dear, what is it?”

“They took her, Raisa. They _took_ her,” his face crumpled, as he shook his head in disbelief, “and I let them, I-”

“You did not do this,” she said kneeling in front of him, her hands firm on his arms. “You cannot own the actions of evil men. You can only hope to right them.”

“Yeah,” he breathed out, tears forming in his eyes, “yeah, I- I can do that.”

She stood and smiled, “Of course you can, my dear. For as soft as your heart can be you were always very courageous.”

He pushed himself to his feet, placing himself in front of the picture window, “I don't know if that's true, Raisa.”

“It is,” she said, her tone holding no room for an argument. “You let yourself get confused. Who you are gets mixed up with who you think you should be.”

“And what am I?”

Raisa turned to him from the door, appraising him in a way that made him want to check his sweater and cargo pants for ketchup stains, “You are a man Mr. Oliver, your heart wants the same as any other.”

The door clicked softly as it closed behind her and Oliver slid the phone out of his pocket and into his hand. “Tommy?” he asked when he heard white noise on the other end of the line. 

“The cell signal calibrated to somewhere just north of the Glades,” Tommy choked out.

“What?”

“That's what I heard them say. The call came from the North, just outside the Glades.”

“Anything else?”

“No,” Tommy whispered, “they're staying here, in case another call comes. And what are you- what are you pl-”

“I'm calling John next,” Oliver said, feeling the iron enter his soul, “and then I'm going after them.”

“I have to stay here,” Tommy went on, “I need you to swear to me, Oliver. Swear it. That you'll bring her- that you'll bring them all home. Ok?”

“I swear it on MarioKart,” Oliver said with a small smile.

Tommy huffed out a laugh around his tears, “Jesus Christ, that would have been enough when we were ten.”

“I swear it Tommy,” Oliver repeated, his voice grave.

Tommy let out a shaky sigh, “I'll hold you too it,” then he hung up. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Felicity leaned heavily against the rough concrete wall, wincing as it abraded the tender skin of her back, as Thea stretched her legs out, and Laurel rubbed halfheartedly at first one foot then the other.

“It's weird isn't it?” Felicity sighed, “We've come across a bunch more little tunnels like the one to the storage room, but this tunnel hasn't done anything.”

“What do you mean? What would a tunnel do?” Laurel rolled her neck on her shoulders.

“I don't know,” Felicity scuffed at the floor with her panda flat, “turns, intersections, maybe stairs?” 

“That is kind of weird,” Thea said arching her back, working the kinks out of her shoulders, “there haven't been any hallways or anything. Plus that weird roaring noise is getting a lot louder.”

“Yeah,” Laurel said with a nod, “there's no easy access, but there's all these lights.”

“So that means there has to be access somewhere, right?” Felicity swallowed her panic down.

“Has to be,” Thea replied, “or it would have been a huge waste of money to run electricity through here.”

They'd walked on for a few (several) minutes (hours) more when, “I don't think it is yelling,” Thea said abruptly. “It sounds more like a whooshing noise. And how could it have gone on for this long if it was yelling?”

Felicity turned to smile at her, “So what doesn't yell, but makes a yelling like whooshing noise?” Then she ran straight into Laurel's back when the brunette pulled suddenly to a halt. “Oh, I'm sorry Laurel,” Felicity said straightening her glasses, “I didn't see-”

“The hydro dam,” Laurel whispered out, “we're somewhere inside the dam.”

“What?” Felicity didn't shriek, but it was a near miss.

“I thought the dam's been closed since the quake?” Thea's pretty face pinched up into a frown.

“Exactly,” Laurel said turning towards them, “abandoned and rusty storage room? Roaring, whooshing noise?”

“Oh, God, we're in an earthquake-damaged hydro dam.”

Thea's eyes were wide in her rising panic, “Are we in an overflow channel? Are we going to get swept-” she drew a heavy shuddering breath, “because I am not the strongest at swimming and I-”

“I don't think we are,” Felicity said placing a hand on her elbow, “I don't think they'd have vents placed off the tunnel like this if there was water in it ever, or lights for that matter.”

“Plus,” Laurel added, concern on her face, “nothing's damp, there's no signs of water on the wall,” She pointed at the dusty, but unmarked concrete, “I think we'll be ok?”

“So then what are we in, exactly?” Thea whispered.

“My guess?” Laurel said with a smile, “Something to do with air return.”

“And if it's an air shaft?” Felicity said pulling Thea into a gentle hug.

“It means outside.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Oliver hunched over the handlebars of his bike, letting the familiar motions of steering the powerful machine into the city calm his mounting rage. The sound of the wind around his helmet helped to center his thoughts. Her reached one gloved hand to his ear and switched on his comm unit.

“Oliver,” John snapped out when the line went live.

“The call came into Tommy's. Somewhere North of the Glades.”

“We've got two names, a Deveau and an Aglin. Both former military, both lost people in the quake.”

Oliver grit his teeth, “And?”

“Well, some admittedly very basic Googling revealed Aglin owns a construction business, houses mostly.”

“So, what?” Oliver ground out, “they're being held in a gutted building?” 

“No, If you would ju-”

“Can we get to the point,” Oliver shouted at John, his heart racing, hands sweating, terror climbing up the back of his throat.

“He's got an electrician he works with sometimes, guy named Baker, who's also listed as working for Starling Light and Power.”

“What does that help?” Oliver gunned the engine down the highway, swerving in and out of traffic.

“Well,” Diggle said, “SL and P run the hydroelectric dam. It's currently closed due to quake damage but-”

“It's North of the Glades.”

“Yeah,” Diggle said, “secure, remote, controlled access.”

“Sounds like the perfect place to stash some hostages.”

“So what's your plan?”

“I'm headed in,” Oliver took a steadying breath. “We'll figure the rest out when I get to Verdant,” he rumbled, switching the comm off.

Ok, he took a slow breath through his nose, trying to remember everything from every field trip he'd taken to the dam in elementary school. _Main entrance on the East. Over flow channels on the north and south sides of the river. Air intake along the ridge, to pull the air that's inside, up and out._

Oliver rolled to a halt in the alleyway outside the club next to the dumpster, and cut the engine. He pulled his helmet off and stalked to the building. When he reached the door, he took two steadying breaths to keep his anger in check and let himself inside.

“That's a really terrible look on you,” Oliver said from halfway down the stairs.

Roy struggled to get his hands out of the jacket's sleeves, finally just shaking his arm frantically until the leather coat hit the floor. “I can't say I've ever really been into green,” he said patting his hair back into place, “Red's always been more my color.”

“I'll have my tailor get right on that,” Oliver said dropping his helmet on the table.

“The dam is just our best guess,” John started abruptly, “it might not be where they are.”

“It's enough,” Oliver said picking up the suit from where Roy had left it in a heap. “Find me the night vision goggles,” he said to Roy as he headed into the back. “I'm leaving in fifteen, so if you've got any better ideas, that's your time frame.”

Roy cast a sidelong glance at Diggle, “So, do you?”

“Do I what?” Diggle asked, riffling through a box marked 'surveillance' in Felicity's swirling handwriting.

“Have any better ideas?”

“Yeah, I do.” Diggle said, still rummaging in the crate.

“And?” Roy prompted.

“And, what?”

“What are they?” Roy huffed out, clearly annoyed.

John gave him a serious once over, “They all start and end with calling Detective Lance at Starling Police Headquarters.”

“But you're not going to,” Roy stated the question like the fact it was.

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“I've been trying to be the voice of reason around here since... God, I'd say day one, but it's more like hour one. And usually? He can be brought around,” he nodded his head to where Oliver had disappeared into the darkness. “Between Felicity and me, he stays-,” he waggled his head indecisively, “he stays basically on even ground. But lately,” he shook his head, “I don't know, he's... off center. And now, with the kidnapping? It's like Tommy said, he's going to saddle up and ride out.”

“Is it because it's Thea?”

“Partially.”

“Or Laurel?” Roy went on, “Thea told me they used to date.”

“That's part of it too.”

“Oh,” Roy said with a slow nod, his brow furrowing in confusion, “so, it's... Felicity?”

“Yep.”

“Really?” his eyebrows made an impressive play for his hairline. “God, I didn't know.”

“Don't sweat it,” John said, handing him the night vision goggles, “Oliver doesn't either.”

“Oliver doesn't what?” the man himself said, seeming more centered now that he was in his suit and tasked with his purpose.

“That you don't know how to work those goggles right,” John quickly cut in.

“That's not true,” Oliver said plucking them out of Roy's hand and sliding them into the strapping that held his quiver against his thigh, “I'm excellent with modern technology.”

“Really?” Diggle smirked, “Then why does your primary weapon hail from the Paleolithic Age?”

Oliver sent him a glare, “You calling Lance?” he said, straightening.

“You've got an hour to check in,” John said with a firm nod, “and then I am. And I'm giving him everything we have, your crusade be damned.”

Oliver strode to his friend and folded him into a hug, “I wouldn't have it any other way.” He pointed to Roy as he jogged up the steps. “He needs to get one of the SUVs. We don't know what kind of injuries we'll have on the way out.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Well,” Laurel said, one hand on the ladder, squinting, but still unable to see all the way to the top of it in the gloom of the air vent, “I hope no one's afraid of heights.”

“I am,” Felicity said nodding, “I discovered it completely by accident, actually not that long ago, I was in this elevator shaft...” She glanced up from where she'd been burning a hole in the floor with the intensity of her gaze to see Thea's startled face, “Never mind, it's a boring story.”

“Hey,” Thea said, placing a hand on her forearm, “do you need to wait down here? We can go up and-”

“No,” Felicity interrupted with a swift shake of her head, “we don't know if those goons are behind us.” She looked back down the tunnel, “Plus I've seen horror movies that look a lot like this.”

“Ok,” Laurel said with a supportive smile already three rungs high on the welded pipe ladder, “up and out it is?”

Felicity nodded, and grasped the bar in her hand, tugging once to test the strength of the bolts in the concrete.

Half way up the ladder, Thea tilted her head to the side and said, “What's that noise?”

Felicity glanced down at her over (what was left) of her voluminous skirt, heart racing, “I'm really starting to hate it when you say that,” she said with a tight smile.

“Is it a yelling, or a whooshing this time?” Laurel called back.

“Neither,” Thea said with a shake of her head, “it's a wub-wub-wub noise.”

“So that means-” Laurel prompted.

“There's a night club at the top of the air shaft?” Felicity said, raising her feet up another rung, willing her hands to not sweat.

“Are you cracking jokes, Smoak?” Thea teased.

“Anything to keep my mind busy.”

“I smell fresh air,” Laurel called down, “it can't be too much farther.”

“Yeah, but at the rate were going?” Thea called back.

Felicity drew a big gasp of air, “I'm sorry I'm holding things up,” she choked out. “Maybe I should have stayed down below?” She exhaled shakily, “I just- I don't think I-”

“Hey,” Thea said, “we're glad you came up with us. Aren't we Laurel?”

“Yeah,” Laurel said glancing down at them, “no way we would have left you behind.”

Felicity fiddled with her glasses for a moment, inhaling the doubt, tamping down her fear, and exhaling... something. It felt a lot like gratitude.

“You alright?” Thea prompted, her voice soft.

“Yeah,” Felicity nodded hastily, “yeah, let's get out of here.”

“I figured out the wub-wub noise,” Laurel said a few moments later.

“And?” Thea asked, her hands gripping more firmly around the pipe of the ladder.

“Can't you see it?” Laurel called back.

“Is it Felicity's dress?”

Laurel huffed out a laugh, “No, God. Why would you even say that?”

“Because all I can see is concrete, cage lights, and seventy-four layers of chiffon skirts.”

Felicity stuck her tongue out at her friend, “You're the one who picked it.”

“I'm not saying it's not cute, I'm saying,” she pinched her face searching for the word, “it's foamy?”

“Foamy?” Felicity deadpanned.

“Yeah,” Thea nodded, “like a latte.”

“A latte?”

“Yeah.”

“With ruby red foam?”

“That's a thing.”

“That is so not a thing.”

“I thought you liked coffee?”

“Ok, children,” Laurel interrupted them, “a fan.”

“Is that a type of coffee?” Thea asked.

“No,” Laurel said eyes rolling, “the wub-wub noise, it's a fan at the top of the air shaft.”

“Is there an off switch?” Felicity asked, all business.

“I can't tell. We're still too far down,” Laurel answered with a shake of her head.” Then a handful of tense moments later, “I don't think there is.”

“Is there a power box?” Felicity asked.

“Yeah,” Laurel nodded slightly.

“Follow the wires with your eyes to the wall. Do you see anything there?”

“I'm-” Laurel hesitated, “I'm not really sure?” She scrunched over to one side of the ladder, “Do you think you could get a little higher up to see?”

Felicity inhaled slowly, “Ok,” she whispered.

“I'll stay right behind you,” Thea said, moving up the ladder in tandem with her shaken friend.

Felicity was just a few rungs below Laurel, squinting over the brunette's shoulder to see the junction box in the dim morning light. “No,” she whispered, “there's no switch, and no fail-safe.”

“How do we stop the fan then?” Laurel asked.

Felicity swallowed, shaking her head, “God, I don't know.” She closed her eyes and centered herself, “Maybe if we could just, I don't know, break it somehow?”

“How would we do that?”

Felicity gasped, and plunged one hand into her pocket, “There's a screwdriver in my glasses case.”

“Is that going to be long enough?” Thea asked, doubt clear in her voice.

“I keep handle extensions in there.”

“Not to look a gift horse in the mouth,” Laurel said, “but why?”

“It helps get to the teeny-tiny screws in the back of the server tower.” 

She handed the kit to Laurel, who hooked one elbow around a ladder rung so she could use both hands to assemble the screwdriver, which now looked like a rather festive pink and gold ice pick.

“Any place in particular?”

Felicity nodded, “Yeah, through the little vent slits. Keep your hand on the plastic parts.” She cleared her throat gently, “Also, there might be some sparking?”

“Sparking? Like fire sparking?”

“Well you are shoving metal into, what is admittedly a very simple circuit but it's still-”

“Sparking,” Laurel cut in, lining up her shot, “got it.” Laurel turned her face, and stabbed upward at the circuitry of the motor.

There was a crackle, a flash of light and a hiss of pain.

“Are you Ok?” Felicity asked.

“Just a little sparking,” Laurel answered.

“Did you get burned?” Thea called up.

“Just a little burning,” Laurel said through gritted teeth.

“Do you think you can get the fan pushed out of the way?”

“Umm,” Laurel turned slightly on the ladder rung, flexing her arm, “I'm not sure.”

“Here,” Felicity said, pulling herself up another rung on the ladder, “if you can use one arm and I can use one arm, that'll be like one person using two arms and-”

“Yeah,” Laurel cut her off with a smile, “I'd love some help.”

Felicity slid up another notch, Thea literally at her heels, her smile was shaky, but it was there.

“I'll just,” Felicity said, stepping up onto the empty side of Laurel's rung, she hooked her elbow through the vertical support and reached up to curl her fingers around the grating in between the fan's blades. “Do you think this'll be a shove or a lift and shove?” Felicity asked nodding at where the metal frame of the fan met the concrete at the top of the shaft.

“For all our sakes I hope it's just a shove.”

“Do you hear that?”

“Oh, God, Thea,” Felicity whispered.

“Is it a whoosh, or a wub-wub?”

“Um, neither,” Thea said, “engine, motorcycle.”

Felicity stilled instantly, Laurel followed suit. They shared several seconds of panicked glances between the three of them, barely breathing.

Felicity strained to hear the boots in long grass, and gripped the ladder tighter, panic fluttering in her chest. She squinted up at the early morning gloom, as the whispering of the grass slowed and stopped. _Maybe it was just the wind,_ she thought, staring at where her hands gripped the metal of the ladder, _please let it be the wind_. A few tense moments followed and Felicity heard Thea exhale, the threat had passed. She relaxed her grip minutely, pulling in a slow breath, when she heard Laurel's sharp gasp as a shadow covered them.

Then she heard the voice say, “I've been looking for you.” And through the bubbling of her fear and panic she realized, _Oliver_. 

“Can you help us get the fan loose?” Laurel asked.

Felicity saw the tips of his black gloves peek through the grating before he grunted slightly, tipping the metal up and back. No more effort then he used to flip open his wooden trunk.

“She's hurt,” Felicity blurted out, trying not to get lost in his blue eyes, half hidden beneath the hood.

He braced one foot against the lip of the air shaft and leaned in, offering his hand to Laurel. She took it with a smile, climbing the rest of the way out of the tunnel.

Felicity closed her eyes, and pressed her head against the cool metal of the ladder, willing her fear away.

“Hey,” Thea said gently, “you can move to the center of the ladder now. If that'll help?”

Felicity nodded briefly, her breathing loud in her ears. She took one shuffling step to the center of the rung, when she felt strong arms under her arms and then the sensation of flying. She opened her eyes, flat on her back a few feet from the mouth of the tunnel, Thea's head and shoulders emerging from the darkness. Only then did she realize Oliver was on top of her, hands around her middle, breath against her neck, knees on either side of her hips. “How did you-”

“I laid on my stomach in the grass, grabbed you, and rolled.” She stilled her hands from where they had been absently petting at his shoulder. “Felicity I,” he started his fingers flexing against her back, his breath against her ear, “I never meant for this...” she felt his harsh exhale against her skin, “I didn't want this-”

“Laurel needs a doctor,” she interrupted, turning away from him, seeking out her new friend in the dim light, concern furrowing her brow.

He tipped his head towards her neck, inhaling a breath, “Of course,” he whispered, pushing swiftly to his feet. “Ms. Lance? If you'll follow me,” he said through the voice distorter.

“Oh? Right,” she replied absently as he led the way to his motorcycle, cradling her injured arm in front of herself.

He turned then to Thea's gaping face, “Head that way down the road,” he pointed to the East, the sun barely visible on the horizon, “There's a police station that's not too far. I'm taking Ms. Lance to Starling General.” 

Then the bike roared to life, and they were gone.


	8. Chapter 8

“I really wish I'd bought that not-backless dress from the boutique,” Felicity huffed out, her breath forming little puffs in the chilly morning air.

“All this seemed so cute,” Thea waved a hand between them “before 'elegant evening at the Plaza' was replaced by 'escaping from hostage takers'.”

“I have to admit I would have made some distinctly different sartorial choices if I had know how tonight was going to end up.”

“Yeah,” Thea said with a groan, “but how could we have known? Ugh,” she continued, “I am so ready to be out of these shoes.”

“You want to switch?” Felicity offered.

“Are you sure?”

“Twenty dollar panda flats for priceless silver and diamond studded princess shoes? Oh, yeah, let me think about that for five whole seconds.”

“They're not really diamonds,” Thea said, shifting onto one foot and sliding her stiletto off.

“And that's really not even the point.”

Felicity tottered around on the impossibly tall heels for a few moments to get her bearings while Thea rubbed at her arch and slipped on the flats.

“How far down this road is the police station?” Thea asked a while later.

“I don't know,” Felicity said stepping carefully down the gravel shoulder of the winding road, “I'm not sure how head waggles convert to miles.”

Thea snorted inelegantly, before her head shot up in surprise, “Miles!” she exclaimed. “Do you really think it could be miles?” Felicity shrugged. “I can't believe he just-” she shook her head, “he just left us behind.”

“He had to get Laurel to a hospital,” Felicity took another slow step.

“But he could have-” Thea started.

“I don't think he's got a set of side cars hidden in his quiver,” she said gently.

Thea opened her mouth to reply when she suddenly went as still as a rabbit, “Do you hear that?” she whispered.

“Oh my God, Thea!” Felicity said dramatically, “If I never hear you say that ever again-”

“I'm serious,” Thea said, clinging now to Felicity's arm. A moment later Felicity heard it too. “Do you think it's the hooded guys?” Thea asked, voice trembling with fear.

“Didn't Oliver-” Felicity stuttered, “didn't he... _take care_ of them?”

“I don't know.” Thea's eyes were practically spherical in her face, “Did he?”

Felicity turned to see a set of headlights come over the hill they'd been walking down, and she reacted.

“Hey,” Thea screeched from where Felicity had shoved her into a bush.

“Get down,” Felicity hissed, as she herself dropped to her stomach in the frosty grass in the ditch beside the road.

Felicity buried her face in the cold turf and held her breath as the car rolled to a crunching stop a few feet from where they were laid out. She bit the inside of her cheek when she heard a car door open and slam shut, slow steps in the gravel approaching her.

“You guys are really terrible at field work, if this is the best you can do.”

“Roy!” Thea shrieked, leaping from the treeline with all the speed and agility of a spring deer.

“We're going to have to drop you a few blocks from the station,” he said with a regretful smile, after they'd settled into the car.

“We understand,” Thea said leaning forward to give him a gentle squeeze to his shoulder, “You have your secret identity to protect.”

John let out a short laugh from the driver's seat, “Just call us when you're ready to go home,” he said. “We shouldn't be too far away.”

“How's Laurel?” Felicity asked from the other side of the back seat.

“She's at the hospital being treated for her burns,” Roy said matter of factly, “Oliver said she should be fine.”

“Did anyone call Tommy and let him know?” Thea asked.

“We didn't,” Roy said with a shake of his head.

“Don't you think you should?” Thea asked.

“It should be Laurel,” Felicity said quietly. “That's her choice.”

“Really?” Thea sent her a disbelieving stare.

“Yes,” Felicity said with a decisive nod, “but if you want to call him to tell him _we're_ Ok...”

“I would,” Thea said relaxing back into her seat, “but our phones are gone, remember?”

“We can call him,” Roy called over his shoulder.

“Make sure it's his cell,” Diggle said pulling up to the curb a few blocks from the station, “we don't know if his phone is still tapped.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Can I get a blanket, or something?” Thea asked, still clutching a paper cup full of coffee.

“Oh, of course,” the Desk Sergeant replied, rising from his seat and disappearing into the back of the station house. He reemerged a few scant moments later, Felicity and Thea still hunched over his desk, pens in hand. “Here,” he dropped a blanket around Thea's shoulders. “I thought you might want this?” He handed Felicity a bundle of bright yellow fabric.

Felicity took it in her hands and shook it loose. “Starling City PD Fun-Run,” Felicity said, reading the front of the shirt, “2011.” She quickly pulled the garment over her ruined dress. The 3x men's size falling to her thighs, and past her elbows, the neck wide and hanging off one shoulder. 

“I'm done,” Thea announced a short while later.

Another officer approached them and brought Thea's stack of papers to a different desk to read. “These aren't completed yet,” she said.

“I didn't say they were complete,” Thea stood, pulling Felicity to her feet as well, “I said I was done.”

“But Miss Queen-”

“Bye,” Thea called over her shoulder, tugging Felicity through the lobby area of the small station house and out onto the steps of the building.

“Thea what are you-” Felicity started, before she noticed the SUV rolling to a stop in front of them. Thea yanked open the back door and unceremoniously shoved Felicity in before clamoring up after her.

“Shouldn't we finish that paperwork?” Felicity asked, righting herself, and straightening her glasses.

“What are they going to find out that they don't already know?” Thea asked, buckling herself into the seat. 

“I don't know,” Felicity said, yawning, “more about those guys?”

“They have them in custody already,” John answered from behind the steering wheel. He cleared this throat gently, “They... uh, they got a helpful tip that you were being held in the dam.”

“Really?” Felicity asked.

“Yeah,” John nodded, “right before Laurel walked into the Emergency Room of Starling General.

“How is she?” Felicity asked, as the car rolled through the empty city streets.

“Last I heard she was headed home.”

“Oh,” Thea said, sounding disappointed.

“With Tommy,” John continued with a smile.

“I'm glad she's doing Ok.” Felicity said, fiddling with her glasses.

“She's totally Ok,” Roy said. “And we're all really impressed, you know?”

“Impressed with what?” Thea asked, petting along the nape of his neck.

“Your survival ability,” he leaned slightly into Thea's touch, “your acting ability,” he smiled at them. “I saw the security tapes when we were being interviewed. Extremely convincing.”

Thea's hand stilled on his shirt collar, “What do you mean convincing?”

“When those guys snatched you.”

“I wasn't acting,” Thea said sending a glance to Felicity. “Were you?”

Felicity gave a short shake of her head, “No.”

Diggle pressed down on the brakes and steered them to a halt on the side of the road, “You didn't know?”

“About the kidnappers?” Thea said, “Of course not! We would have canceled the event!” Felicity nodded in agreement. “What makes you think we did know?”

“Oliver said you knew,” Roy whispered out, hands clenching in his lap.

“Did Oliver know?” Thea shrieked out.

“He used us as bait?” Felicity asked, voice barely audible above the hum of the heater in the car.

Roy shook his head, “It was a random thing.”

“Who got snatched was random,” John clarified, “not the location.”

“How far are we to my place?” Felicity asked.

“You can't go there,” Diggle said, pulling the car back into traffic, “you don't have anything assembled, remember? And I don't think your electricity is turned on yet.”

“Can you drop me at Verdant? My car's there.”

“What do you need the car for?” Thea asked, eyes full of concern.

“We'll I'm either going to sleep in it, or drive to my mother's in Las Vegas. I'll decide when we get there.”

“Felicity-” Thea said in a placating tone.

“No,” she said, pursing her lips into a pout.

“I don't know what-”

“I'm not going back to his house,” she whispered mutinously.

“Of course you're not!” Thea grabbed her hand across the expanse of the backseat, “The Plaza, if you would John.”

Felicity was sure the double suite they ended up in was all plush cream furnishings, highly polished marble and understated class. 

She was also sure the wave she sent Thea and Roy as they went into the main bedroom would be interpreted as she meant it. “Have all the loud, life affirming sex you want, I'm comatose until Purim.” 

She let herself into the other (undoubtedly upscale and stylish) bedroom, slipped out of Thea's shoes, and passed out in a pile of pillows and million thread count sheets. 

She levered herself off the rumpled bed hours later, not bothering to turn on any lights. The suite was silent, and enough of the day had passed that it was dark outside again. Felicity let out a jaw cracking yawn and headed into her bathroom, shedding her ruined clothing as she went.

Felicity stepped into the spray dimly lit by the courtesy light above the vanity, and felt her shoulders relax under the water.

 _I can't believe he didn't tell us_ , she turned her back to the shower-head and winced at the sting of scalding water on the abraded skin on her upper back. _There was so much risk, not just for us but,_ she closed her eyes as a sheet of the water cascaded across her face, _what if they had taken someone with a heart condition? Some middle-aged banker's wife? I can't believe he would just,_ she shook her head, sending droplets of water flying. _He must have thought there was no other way._

No other way.

No other way out of the crumbling Foundry.

No other way out of her burning apartment building.

No other way out of a damaged Hydro Dam.

She pressed a tremoring hand to her lips in a vain attempt to stifle the sobs no one was around to hear anyway. _You survived it,_ she chided herself. “You survived, you survived,” she whispered in time with the beating of her heart. 

She pulled in a great heaving lungful of the bathroom's damp air, tipping her head back into the stream of water. She'd hoped when she exhaled it would be slow and controlled, instead it came out as a throaty sob. Felicity slumped against the wall off the shower, and sank to the floor. Knees pulled to her chest, arms crossed atop them, face buried in the cradle she'd made of her body, and she let herself go.

Felicity thought she'd stay in the warmth of the spray until she'd exhausted all her weeping, until the water ran cold, until all the doubt and fear warring behind her ribs were replaced with numb resignation. _Oliver didn't trust us, didn't trust me._ Felicity closed her eyes again, the world too blurry without her glasses on and through her veil of tears to bother with anyway.

Felicity startled slightly when the water cut off. Blinking in confusion at the heavy forearm between the tile and curtain, twisting the knobs decisively to 'off'. An enormous piece of white fluffy fabric came around her then, she struggled against it momentarily until strong arms encircled her ribs and the back of her knees, pulling her up to a firmly muscled chest. “Oliver?” she asked, pushing a corner of the fabric out of her face. “What on Earth-”

“I got worried,” he said gruffly, heading back into the bedroom.

“I was showering.”

“You were crying.”

She glanced away then, “I quit that a while ago.”

“I know,” he said settling himself against the headboard, swinging his legs up on the mattress, Felicity bundled in his lap, “that's why I got worried.”

She could feel his fingers toying with a fold in the towel he had wrapped her in, “I'm getting your shirt wet,” she whispered, pushing away from him slightly.

“It doesn't matter,” he said, carding a hand through her dripping curls, encouraging her to nuzzle into his shoulder, turning his head far enough to graze his lips along her cheek.

“It feels that way sometimes,” she murmured against his neck.

“What?”

“Like it doesn't matter.”

She felt him shift into that preternatural stillness beneath her, “What do you mean?”

Felicity closed her eyes slowly and exhaled, “Like...I don't know,” she took a steadying breath, “like I've worn out all the caring parts. They've been exhausted, they're gone.”

“That can't be true,” his hands ghosted along her back through the towel.

“What makes you so sure of that?”

“You wouldn't be crying if it were.”

She stiffened, “Crying isn't a weakness, Oliver-”

“I'm not saying it is,” he shifted slightly, pulling the towel more tightly around her. “It took me a long time to learn how to do it again.” Felicity relaxed against him, “But it also proves,” he went on, “that some part of you still does care.”

“So, not broken then?”

“No, Felicity,” he whispered softly, “never that.”

“Maybe like,” she rolled into him slightly, tucking her knees against his hip, and ringing her arms around his shoulders, “just a little overloaded, but back online soon enough?”

He shifted again, pulling one knee up, and tugging her higher on his chest. “I'm sure you'll be fine.”

“Why are you wriggling around so much?” Felicity asked, shifting again his lap, “I was comfortable. Aren't you? Wait, am I squishing you?”

“No, Felicity, you're fine,” she watched as he swallowed.

“Then what's your problem?” She turned then, bringing her hip further into his lap, pressing firmly down against his, “Oh,” she breathed out unable to resist rolling against him again, “I see.”

“Felicity, I-”

“Don't worry about it,” she said with a smile, propping her cheek on his pectoral. “I know what fight boners are.” _Would I be this shameless if the lights were on? If it wasn't Oliver?_

“What,” his voice had gone low.

“Roy told me.”

“Roy,” he said flatly.

“Yeah, over the comms.”

“You talk to Roy over the comms?”

“I talk to all of you over the comms.”

“You don't talk to me like this.”

She pulled away slightly to look into his darkened eyes barely visible by the dim light in the bathroom, shadowed further by his furrowed brow. “You're never on the comms,” she said with a delicate shrug.

“You shouldn't talk to Roy like that,” he said going still again.

“Thea doesn't mind.”

“She doesn't mind you talking to her boyfriend about-”

“He was talking to her,” Felicity cut in.

“Thea was on comms?”

“Thea's always on comms.”

“Wait.” Oliver said with a shake of his head, “How did-”

“He mentioned it to her, and later I asked what he meant. That's all.”

“I changed my mind,” Oliver said, “I don't want to talk about my little sister and Roy like that.”

Felicity tipped her head back, “She's not exactly 'little' anymore Oliver, I'm only a few yea-”

“You can't finish that sentence,” he groaned out.

“Why?” she asked as he drew his hand up to cup her cheek, fingers playing in the curls forming around her ear.

“Because I don't want to think about anybody right now, Felicity,” he said lowering his mouth to hers, “except you.” He ghosted a kiss along her jaw then once, twice. His tongue flicking out against her lips, which parted on a gasp. 

“Oliver,” she breathed out, as her hands crept up his shoulders, along his nape, and into his hair, “wait,” she murmured against his ear, fingers tightening in the short strands at the back of his neck as he mouthed his way down her throat.

“Is this too fast?” he pressed a kiss against her pulse. “Should we stop?”

“No.” She hummed out, boneless in his arms. 

He rumbled low in his chest against the still damp skin of her collarbone, “What is it then, Felicity?” he breathed out in a puff of air.

She shivered, “I'm still mad at you.” The accusation in her words were belied by her softly parted lips and half closed eyes.

“How mad?” He brushed the stubble on his jaw along the delicate skin exposed at the edge of her towel, pinkening it with his rough attention.

“Pretty mad,” she squirmed slightly against him bringing the curve of her bottom more fully into his lap.

Oliver clenched his teeth to hold back his groan, “Can you be mad later?”

She pulled herself up slightly, brushing kisses along the hard line of his mouth, “I _will_ be mad later.”

He shifted her then, until her knees were braced around his hips, pressing the soft lips of her cunt against the harsh fabric of his trousers and the bulge behind it. She arched, lightly rolling her hips against him, her towel preciously close to parting, “Can we _talk_ about being mad later?” he ground out.

She rubbed her nose along his, “No.”

He pulled in a deep breath and raised his face towards the ceiling, “You weren't supposed to be there.”

“What?”

He closed his eyes and tipped his forehead into her shoulder, his breath against the swell of her breasts. “You told me you were going to be at your new place.” He gripped her hips then where he'd pushed her towel out of his way, and lifted her slightly away from his body, shifting under her until he was more fully reclining. 

“What difference would that have made?” she asked, trying not to sound breathless at his finger pressing into her soft flesh, bracing herself against the headboard as he settled himself beneath her.

“Well, it would have been a daring and heroic rescue. Instead of flipping over a fan at the very end.”

Felicity tensed as the fabric that was stretched across his torso brushed against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs as he maneuvered himself to his liking. “What?” she gasped, unable to concentrate on what he was saying.

“If you were at your apartment,” he went on conversationally, his eyes flashing, fingers trailing over her hips. “It wouldn't have mattered who they took then, I could have had you where I needed you.”

“Where you needed me?” Felicity whispered in a voice gone hoarse.

“Yes, at the Foundry. You would have been able to track the Hoods in no time. It wouldn't have taken us hours to get to the hostages, hours waiting around for phone calls. It would have been in and out. Ninety minutes, tops.”

Felicity pinched the corners of her mouth into a frown, as her brain focused on his words, and not her own lustful thoughts. “Are you saying this is my fault?”

“No,” he said pulling his hands out from under the towel, and wrapping his massive hands around her ribs. He flexed his fingers in the material urging it down, wanting desperately to bare her to his gaze. “I'm saying it would have been a lot different.”

“If you had told me,” Felicity replied, leaning slightly forward, “I would have stayed away.”

“I didn't know how much I needed you, until you weren't there.”

“You haven't needed me, Oliver,” Felicity said quietly, playing with the buttons on his shirt.

“I do need you. No one can work those computers like you can and I lo-”

"The computers?" Felicity interrupted, unable to mask the hurt in her voice. 

"No, Felicity, there's so much more than th-" 

“Then why have you been avoiding me?” There was no accusation in her tone. Only curiosity.

His hands stilled, “I didn't want to bother you.”

“That's a lie,” she said flatly, crossing her arms, and hugging the towel a little closer to her body.

His mouth settled into a frown, “Well, you were having so much fun with Tommy.”

“Tommy?” she questioned, an eyebrow in the air. “Are you pouting?” she asked, bracing one hand on his hard chest, ducking her head to get a better look at his face in the dimness of the bedroom.

“No,” he said petulantly.

“If you had told me, _us_ ,” she corrected with a shake of her head, “me _and_ Thea, we could have worked with you. We could have helped.”

“You were busy,” he answered with a flex of his jaw, “playing nursemaid.”

“I can tell you one thing for sure Oliver,” she said refolding her arms across her chest and pushing back until she was sitting straight up again, “with all the _playing_ Tommy and I did, it never ended up with me half naked and in his lap.” She rolled off him then, bending to scoop up the yellow fun run shirt in a fluid motion, tucking the towel further around herself.

“Where are you going?” he asked, turning to his side.

“I'm going to put this on and get something from room service, I'm starving.”

“Really?” his brows worked into a scowl, “I came here because-” he swallowed thickly, “I mean, I _told_ you. And that's your response? Breakfast?”

Felicity turned slowly towards him, shirt held loosely in her fingers, “Told me what Oliver?”

“I said it at the Gala.”

Felicity's eyes widened in confusion, “You asked me to get Thea a tracker.”

“No,” Oliver said pushing off the bed, stalking towards her, “I told you, I needed to protect the people I love.”

“Thea,” she whispered, taking a hesitant step back and colliding with the half open door of the bathroom.

“And,” he answered, voice dangerous and low, his eyes growing dark.

“Laurel?” she tipped her head back to see into his eyes as he crowded against her, placing a palm flat on the door frame next to her head, trapping her.

“You,” he growled out crowding her against wall.

The t-shirt slipped from her fingers then as her hands worked up his broad chest of their own volition. “Really?”

He leaned in then, pressing quick kisses to her temple, her cheek, her nose, the corner of her mouth. “And John thinks I'm the clueless one.”

Felicity meant to ask him what John had to do with anything, but then he dipped his head, tongue sweeping against her bottom lip, before sliding it into her mouth, and she forgot.

He turned then, his palms cupping her hips, his long fingers bunching in the towel as he guided her back to the bed.

Her knees had just brushed the rumpled coverlet when Oliver tipped them over onto the mattress, and rolled them swiftly until they were on their sides. Oliver spooned close behind Felicity. Her head cushioned against the bunched muscles of his shoulder, his hands splayed across her hip and abdomen. The towel still (somehow) in place. 

“Oliver what are you-” she shivered before going still as he pressed a nipping kiss against her neck, just below her ear.

“I thought this might be easier for you,” his voice was a rumble at her back, a whisper in her ear.

“Easier?” she questioned, rolling her bottom back against his lap.

His hand gripped her hip more firmly, tugging her further into himself. “Thea said you were having some problems,” she could hear his throat work as he swallowed, “with feeling confined.”

Realization dawned over Felicity then, _He doesn't want me to feel trapped._ She relaxed into his embrace then, “Yeah,” she whispered, her eyes slipping closed, “yeah, this is good.”

“Just good?” she felt his smile against her shoulder when the arm she was halfway laying on began to move and flex as his hand worked to pull her towel away. She felt the brush of the smooth cotton against her tight nipples and slightly rounded belly as she finally, _finally_ slipped free of it.

“Very good,” she breathed out, cheeks flushing, “very, much good.”

She felt his hands then, ghosting along the soft slope of her waist, one hand moving to knead at the curve of her hip the other to palm the weight of one breast. She tipped her head back into the crook of his neck and let out a soft groan as his calloused fingers began to pinch and play with the tender peak of her nipple. His other hand roamed freely across the expanse of skin between her hip and knee, fingertips ghosting ever closer to sensitive skin of her inner thighs with every sweep of his palm. “Felicity,” he whispered, his mouth against the shell of her ear, stubble tickling her jaw.

“Yes,” she gasped out, “please,Oliver.” She shifted her legs with a stuttered, hesitant motion, parting them slightly and arching her back, pressing her breast further into the cradle of his palm.

His fingers dipped then between her thighs. His touch gentle, his body rigid. Oliver found her wet and soft, warm and wanting. He circled her clit once, twice with the calloused pad of his index finger. She let out a moan, lusty and eager. And he grit his teeth against his own base urges of _faster_ and _mine_ and _now_ , as he slipped that same finger into her, curling it upward just slightly, barely enough.

She writhed (there was no other word for it) against him. Her head tossing against the flexed muscles of his upper arm, her hips rocking frantically between the steady rhythm of his hand between her legs and the hard ridge of his cock against the swell of her ass. 

“Close,” she panted out. He smiled, possessive and feral, nipping at her neck.

She went stiff before she trembled and panted for long minutes, exhaling shakily, her hips moving languidly against him.

“Good?” he whispered, his hands stilling. Her answering hum was low and contented, her body lax, eyes closed. 

She rolled in his arms then, grabbing him by his shirt collar and pulling herself even with his mouth. He buried one hand in the silk of her hair and placed the other on the small of her back. She pressed her lips against his then, inelegant and clumsy in her desire. He worked his hand down her back, across the contours of her ass to cup his fingers around the soft skin where her leg met the curve of her bottom. He gripped there briefly before tugging her knee up, and over his hip.

She moaned into his mouth, low and urgent. Oliver pulled back slightly, “Are you sure, Felicity?” He felt her nod as she sucked a kiss against the tender skin of his jaw. “Really?” he started again, “Because a minute ago you were cryi-”

She pulled away from him, eyes dark, cheeks pink, “Lose the pants, Queen.” 

Felicity pulled herself further up his broad chest as he worked the button and fly of his cargos with his forearms around her legs. Felicity gasped and squirmed as his fingers brushed inadvertently against her ass and thighs as he undid the fastenings. He got them pushed down as far as he could when he pulled away from Felicity's seeking mouth. “Felicity,” he huffed between kisses, a smile on his face, “my pants, they're-”

Felicity flexed her legs, hooked a toe into his belt loop, and shoved down. “Problem solved,” she whispered as Oliver rolled to his back dragging her on top of himself. His cock, hard and leaking, trapped between them. He kicked his trousers free as Felicity deftly undid the buttons down the front of his shirt, christening each new glimpse of exposed skin with a kiss. 

“Felicity,” he gasped out as she trailed her lips and tongue up the rise of his pectoral, across his tattoo, and down the scarred valley of his abdomen. He reached out cupping his hands around her shoulders, dragging his calloused fingers to the nape of her neck, when her body went rigid, sucking in a lungful of air with a pained gasp.

Oliver was up and examining her in a flash, eyes already long adjusted to the dim light of the bedroom. He was behind her in a heartbeat, had her tilted into the light in two.

“Who did this to you?” It wasn't exactly a question. He wasn't exactly asking.

“I did,” she whispered out, “I scraped up against the concrete in the tunnel. It doesn't hurt too bad,” she was quick to reassure him, “but you caught me by surprise.”

He arched over her then, creating a shelter for her with his body, tucking her into his lap and brushing his lips softly against the torn skin across her shoulder blades. He felt as though he could protect her from all the wrong doing and evil in the world through sheer force of will. Oliver pulled her further back into an embrace, burying his nose in her hair, whispering soft words against her skin. His parted shirt forming a curtain around her.

Felicity relished it. His hands gentle on her body. His breath in her hair. But Felicity was wound way past _tender_ and _soft_. She was primed and ready for _right fucking now_. She rose then, on to her knees as best as she could, spread as she was on his lap. Felicity reached a tentative hand between her parted thighs to brush her fingertips against the sensitive underside of his cock. He jerked forward with a gasp and she would have gone face first into the duvet if his arms weren't twin bands of iron around her body. 

“Felicity,” his voice was thick and low, “you can't just-”

“Really?” she interrupted, “Because I thought that's where we were headed? Unless I'm reading this situation really, really wrong.”

He huffed out a laugh and ran his palms along the length of her arms to tangle their fingers together. He pulled her hands up then, placing them on the top of the headboard. “Hold on.”

She tipped her forehead to her elbows and took a deep breath. She heard Oliver rustling behind her, pulling off his shirt, and fishing his wallet out of his pants to retrieve a condom. Felicity felt his hands a moment later curled around her hips, urging her higher and then, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she growled out.

“You're kinda cute,” he said laughingly, “when you're grumpy.”

Whatever sarcastic retort that was on the tip of her tongue vanished when she felt the blunt head of his cock brush against her inner thigh. She was practically vibrating when he shifted her hips down, and back, and she finally felt him. The air she'd been holding came out of her in a rush at the long, slow, perfect stretch. Felicity arched her back and pushed against him, goose bumps breaking out along her skin. She felt his breath, harsh and panting, against the curve of her spine.

“I'm just going to need a minute.”

“Oliver,” Felicity groaned, starting to rock gently in his lap, “no more minutes. Now.” And that was, seemingly, all it took.

She felt the flex of his muscles around her and in a heartbeat she was in his embrace, pulled back flush against his chest. One arm across the softness of her belly, the other banded between her breasts, his hand cupping her face where her jaw had gone slack. He bent his head to hers, nibbled gently on her lower lip, and began to thrust.

Felicity gripped his forearms, her breath leaving her in desperate pants as he pushed into her at a maddeningly slow pace. She felt a tightening then, low across her abdomen. But it wasn't enough.

“Oliver,” she groaned.

He slipped his hand from low on her hip to brush lightly against her cunt, circling and petting at her clit with deft fingers. “Yes?” his voice was gravel rough against her ear.

She tipped her head into his shoulder, her eyes dark and hazy under her lashes, “I'm so close.”

“How close?” he smiled, all teeth, wolfish and predatory. He gave two hard thrusts and she gasped, before he resumed his more sedate pace, placing his hands on her ribs, caressing along her sides. Felicity moaned in the back of her throat, and tried desperately to find purchase on anything, her hands on his arms, her thighs around his legs, her toes in the soft bedding, to give her leverage to thrust against him, to bring her closer to orgasm, to find her end. But Oliver's massive hands on her hips held her where he wanted her. “How close?” he asked again.

“Very,” she gasped, “very, extremely. Please, Oliver, now.” He pressed a gentle, loving, kiss to the nape of her neck, as he once again worked his talented fingers against her. He could feel her tightening, her breath loud in the quiet room and he could hold himself in check no longer. Oliver came then, with a deep groan, as she shuddered apart around him. 

Felicity curled up against his shoulder, condom discarded, sweat cooling on their skin. She threaded their fingers together placing her forearm against his chest. Oliver drew her further into his embrace. Curling an arm around her ribs and running his thumbs in aimless patterns across her palm and along her wrist.

“I'll always come for you,” he whispered into her hair, voice rough with emotion. “You know that, don't you?”

She nodded sleepily against his side, “I'll always come for you, too.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Thanks, Carlo,” Thea sighed as she shifted slightly on the sofa in the Queen's living room, pulling her other foot into Roy's lap.

“Well?” Tommy prompted from the matching sofa opposite the marble fireplace.

Thea smiled broadly, tossing her phone onto the coffee table, “He says they dropped room service off, about an hour ago.”

Tommy leaned in, hands stacked on his cane, a smirk on his face, “For one or two?”

“For two.”

Tommy threw is head back and barked out a laugh, loud and true. “I knew it,” he crowed. Reveling in this victory as if it were a final lap in MarioKart. “You want to high five?” he asked John who was lounging on the other end of the sofa. “That's not _too_ juvenile. Roy?” He turned to the couple opposite him, “Come on. Thea? Don't leave me hanging!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading along! It's been awesome!


End file.
